


Only You

by BottomlessAbyss



Category: the GazettE
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Enemies to Friends, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Frottage, Getting to Know Each Other, Homophobic Language, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pen Pals, Self-Discovery, Slice of Life, Slow Burn, Underage Drinking, Underage Smoking, Unreliable Narrator, Unrequited Crush
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-07
Updated: 2019-01-19
Packaged: 2019-02-11 19:43:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 72,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12942339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BottomlessAbyss/pseuds/BottomlessAbyss
Summary: “Diversity month is something new to our school this year.” Kouyou’s media teacher began, holding up one of the fliers that he had spent all of his free period posting. “It’s about appreciating the different groups at our school, and at the same time building a sense of unity between them.” A series of groans and eye rolls erupted as if by some unseen cue.“Hey, hey, quiet down.” The teacher continued on. “It’s actually pretty cool. If you’ll go to the address written on the board and type in your student log in, you’ll be taken to a random generator which will match you up with another student in the school. You will be responsible for staying in contact with this student- a pen pal, if you will. All names will remain anonymous, unless you make the decision to reveal yourselves. Keep in mind, however, that your participation in this will be taken as a grade, so for any of you who were considering skipping out, I suggest you don’t.”





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> _Anonymous asked: "Uruha as the school's number one basketball jock {and closeted gay} that has everything going for him and Ruki the school's rebellious outcast; both notorious for their 4 years long high school feuds"_
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> aka The drabble request that was, at first, simply for shits and giggles to poke fun at the typical high school food chain of cliques, but it took the reigns, breathed life into itself and turned into a chapter fic. Enjoy.

“Pull over. I wanna get some coffee before school.” Yuu, the boy behind him, demanded while tugging a ball cap over his layered crop of messy dark hair that was steadily getting longer by the day.

“We’re going to be late.” Kouyou warned, annoyed at the entourage that had somehow found its way into his car. Beside him, his girlfriend sat meticulously mussing her hair with an enviable sense of focus. Yuu was in the backseat, thanks to a nasty run in with a traffic light the past Saturday which had put his car, a shiny new SSC Ultimate Aero, in the shop and his butt in the back of Kouyou’s Porsche. And as if his presence alone hadn’t been enough, Yuu had stepped outside his house that morning with a distinctly feminine figure behind him, also in need of a lift.

“Dude, you’re going to pass it!” Yuu whined, leaning forward and pressing his nose longingly against the glass as his girlfriend, Karen, typed furiously on her iPhone.

“Get your face off my window! I told you, we’re not stopping to get- the _fuck_?” The car let out a squeal of protest as it was suddenly turned violently, narrowly missing the fender of an oncoming car as it screeched into the Starbucks parking lot. Satisfied, Yuu released the wheel, collapsing back into his seat with a shit-eating grin. Though Karen seemed unfazed and had moved from texting to taking her own picture on her camera phone, Linda’s fake nails were digging into Kouyou’s arm with enough force to pop them right off. (Linda’s name was actually Lydia, but she had threatened Kouyou on pain of scalding coffee on his crotch if he let anyone in on the secret.)

“Tall black coffee for me.” Karen’s voice drifted monotonously through the car as she scrolled through her recent photos and Twitter feed.

“Tazo tea.” Linda piqued, releasing her death grip on her boyfriend’s arm and examining the damage done to her hair by the harrowing turn.

Kouyou shot an expectant look at Yuu, the instigator of the detour. “Java Chip Frappuccino Blended Coffee. And make it light.”

“Do you realize that you just ordered the girliest shit in this car?” Kouyou asked dryly, inching the car forward to alert the servers they were ready. “And you shouldn’t be drinking coffee today, anyway.”

“Forgive me, _coach_.” The darker haired male said in a mocking falsetto, tipping the bill of his cap towards his friend in imitation of a gentleman. Kouyou new from experience that he was anything but. “God, you turn into such a bitch on game day.”

“You wanna walk the rest of the way?” Kouyou unrolled the window and put in their order, pulling around to pay. With three content teenagers clutching their respective drinks, he was off, reentering into the eight o’clock traffic. As he wove through the lanes with all the skill of a native New Yorker, Kouyou turned up the radio, drowning out the greedy sips that had filled his car.

They pulled into the school parking lot with a few minutes to spare, taking the closest spot to the doors. Most students who had arrived by subway were lingering on the steps, watching enviously as the Porsche let out a final purr before quieting in the parking space. While in the car they had been ill-tempered, anal retentive, animated and bored respectively, but once the doors clicked open, each underwent a transformation. As the group stepped out of the car they represented a socialite class that transcended commonality- a class which only the exceptional breed of human could be granted access to. The exceptionally attractive, the exceptionally rich, and the exceptionally talented.

As they passed through the school’s double doors, it was easy to distinguish between the stares they received: the glassed-over looks of the stoners; the critical glances of the gossips; the burning glares of the goths. The final bell rang overhead, but they didn’t bother to pick up the pace. Game day meant invincibility on the court, and immunity in the classroom. After all, it simply wouldn’t do to have the captain of the basketball team stuck in detention during the first quarter.

Yuu peeled off away from the group first and disappeared down the west wing while Karen took off at the stairwell. Linda and Kouyou, however, had first period Economics together and as they neared the room, Kouyou felt Linda slip her hand into the crook of his elbow, providing the cherry on top of the perfect high school stereotype: the jock and his cheerleader. Strangely enough, he felt a small reflux of cynicism well up in him at the thought alone.

They walked in two minutes late, but upon catching their faces, the economics teacher waved them to their seats per usual, too timid to threaten the wrath of Coach Tanaka.

 

►►►

 

“How many more of these do we have?” Kouyou asked as he tore off a piece of masking tape with his teeth, using it to secure yet another Diversity Month poster to the wall of the cafeteria. He flexed his hand, thinking ruefully of the section in his biology book on carpal tunnel syndrome.

“Last one.” Linda said, passing him the flyer which he posted with a sense of relief. “There’s a good boy.” she said, teetering forward in her heeled shoes to give him a well-earned kiss.

“Linda,” he groaned with a roll of his eyes, his lips now glistening in the aftermath of her Apricot Ambrosia lip gloss. He ran the pad of his thump across his lips, reading the posters for the first time that morning. “What are these for, anyway?”

“Some diversity acceptance kick the school board is on.” Karen replied, clicking open a compact that Kouyou could have sworn hadn’t been in her hand a moment before. Between powdering her nose, she commented, “It’s pointless though. The day I accept that trash at our school is the day the Pope gets a professional manicure.” he followed her gaze to the group of students now filtering into the cafeteria in the wake of the recent bell. Instantly his mood darkened. Outcasts.

“Ready for the game tonight, Shima?” a beefhead behind him asked, giving him a high five.

“You know it.” Kouyou said with a grin, turning his attention away from the table that was, in his opinion, far too close to his own.

“Kouyou, darling.” Yuu greeted, slinging an arm around his shoulder as they approached their table. They slid into seats opposite the other, Linda and Karen taking up the spots beside them as was customary in the unwritten, yet somehow universal, ‘popular’s code. Lunch passed in the manner it usually did- the girls picked at iceberg lettuce and the guys packed in the carbs, all over a hefty conversation of the latest NBA signings and the newest hook-ups.

“Oh my God, I’m sorry. I really- I really didn’t mean to!”

Kouyou glanced to the end of the table where a recent transfer had managed to drop her half empty tray directly into the lap of one of the buffer, albeit slightly less intelligent, football players.

“Son of a-” he yelped in surprise, his face turning a flattering shade of puce. Yuu was up and at the heart of the commotion faster than he could even finish the phrase and, always a sucker for a good game of monkey in the middle, had plucked the glasses right from the girl’s nose and held them high above her head. “Kouyou, go long!” he yelled, and Kouyou swung his legs over the bench with a laugh, running backwards and stretching a hand up to grab the glasses that had now gone airborne. Just a little farther back and-

“Oof!” he backed into something distinctly human, the glasses skittering to the floor and sliding several feet away. This went unnoticed by Kouyou as he turned to face his obstruction, his eyes reluctantly taking in the sight of messy dark hair stained with a dyed streak of faded red that now looked like a vibrant shade of brilliant rose, and a lip ring gracing the corner of a full lower lip. He was infinitely aware of his entire table watching him expectantly in that very moment, waiting intently for his reaction. “Get off of me, _faggot_.” Kouyou snapped, stepping away from the petite boy, Takanori, that shoved him roughly with a venomous glare and making sure that he returned the gesture in full without a flinch of difficulty with an upturn of his lips, his stomach churning. Instantly he was showered with the glow of a satisfied clique, their laughter and knowing smirks enough to calm his strange queasiness and drown out the disdainfully flippant retort that told him to go fuck himself hissed at his retreating back.

**►►►**

“Diversity month is something new to our school this year.” Kouyou’s media teacher began, holding up one of the fliers that he had spent all of his free period posting. “It’s about appreciating the different groups at our school, and at the same time building a sense of unity between them.” A series of groans and eye rolls erupted as if by some unseen cue.

“Hey, hey, quiet down.” The teacher continued on. “It’s actually pretty cool. If you’ll go to the address written on the board and type in your student log in, you’ll be taken to a random generator which will match you up with another student in the school. You will be responsible for staying in contact with this student- a pen pal, if you will. All names will remain anonymous, unless you make the decision to reveal yourselves. Keep in mind, however, that your participation in this will be taken as a grade, so for any of you who were considering skipping out, I suggest you don’t.” He cast a glance at the row of cheerleaders in front of Kouyou who looked about as excited as they did right before they purged in the girl’s bathroom.

“Fuck man, what if I get some creepy chick like that girl who sits in the back row of our Lit. class?” Yuu asked, punching in his student ID. Kouyou said nothing as he typed, thinking to himself. Despite the grumblings around him about how lame the assignment was, he couldn’t help but feel a few faint stirrings of interest. “Oh, come on,” Yuu said, noting his silence, “Don’t tell me you’re actually going to take this seriously.“

“What? No, of course not. I was just thinking about the game.” Kouyou covered effortlessly, his mouse hovering over the ‘Generate E-mail’ button. Beside him he heard Yuu’s groans.

“What the hell, man?” Yuu let out a miserable noise, slumping over the table dejectedly. “Are you serious? It looks like for the next 31 days I’m going to be chatting it up with blackrosesuicide@yahoo.com.” Kouyou couldn’t help but let out a laugh at this information, and the lightened mood made him feel foolish for stalling. With a click of the left mouse button, the screen stalled before refreshing on a new page. Yuu looked over keenly, obviously crossing his fingers for something involving razor blades or black abysses.

“Fadless_Beauty@live.com ” Kouyou said aloud.

“Definitely a chick.” Yuu deduced, sounding bitter. “If you got a hot babe and I’m stuck with the Queen of the Underworld, I’m gonna murder you.” Kouyou nodded his head, but he was barely listening. He had already started typing his first message.

 **Hey**  
**From:** newyorkminute@live.com  
**To:** Fadless_Beauty@hotmail.com  
_Monday, December 1, 2013 2:35 PM_

Hey,  
It looks like we’re going to be getting pretty friendly over the next month. I think this assignment is really just about getting to know each other, so I guess I’ll get the ball rolling. First of all, guy or girl?

And I know we’re supposed to keep this anonymous, but is there something I can call you by?

Kouyou frowned, debating over how to sign it as he bit gently at the nail of his thumb. Shima would be far too obvious. He chewed on his lower lip as he thought, releasing a low sigh through his nostrils: Kou, K, sky… Wait.

Hear from you soon,  
**ÆTIUS**.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I originally wrote this years ago, but now that I have the time I decided to revamp this as a whole and post it here on AO3. I'm quite new here and I'm still learning how to work with it, but I look forward to moving a good bit of my writing here and hope that you give this story a chance♡
> 
> You can find me and all of my other drabbles [Here♡](http://uruhaxrukifanfics.tumblr.com/).


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"It's okay, I've forgiven you."_

**Hey There**  
                      **From:** Fadless_Beauty@hotmail.com  
            **To:** newyorkminute@live.com  
                       _Monday, December 1, 2013 4:15 PM_

Yeah… Would this put a dent on first impressions if I said that I nearly forgot about this assignment? I came home and was like, “…Who the fuck is this?”

But, yea, nice to ‘meet’ you, Aetius. I really like your name btw. Roman, right? Derived from the Greek word _ætos_? 10 brownie points to knowing what it means.

You can call me Rookie, I guess. It isn’t all that spiffy like yours or anything, though. Let me sleep on it and I’ll let you know by tomorrow if I’ll change it to something more creative or not. And I’m a guy. Are you surprised? Disappointed?

                                Looking forward to hearing from you soon,  
  
                               **Rookie**  
  


**•´¯`••´¯`••´¯`••´¯`•**  
  


_Slap. Squeak. Swish_.

The slap of tennis shoes echoing throughout down the court, the squeak of rubber on the gym floor, the swish of the net overhead, connecting with the ball – these sounds were the soundtrack of Kouyou’s life. For as far back as he could remember, he had been defined by them. After school five days a week conditioning, at the gym each weekend striving for perfection; the perfect body, the perfect game. The memories remained intact, so watered down now with time he could barely recall them, when basketball had been nothing more but a hobby. He faintly remembered the feeling of shooting hoops for fun, of messing around and playing HORSE instead of doing drills. But that was a long time ago. Now, he was living between games, striving for a goal that he was beginning to think he lost somewhere down the line.

“Foul!” one of the refs yelled, signaling a stop in play. Instantly the crowd erupted in discord at the call. Kouyou grit his teeth so hard his jaw began to ache.

“What the _fuck_ , I barely even touched him!” Yuu complained, gripping his locks in anger as he stormed over, his mood dangerously lethal. Kouyou, who typically tried to keep his teammates positive, could no longer be concerned with such pleasantries. He ran a hand through his hair, letting out a low curse as he checked the scoreboard.

“There’s three minutes left. There’s no way we can come back from this.” Before he could say anything else, the crowd erupted again in a tornado of screams and jeers, and Kouyou looked up just in time to see the scoreboard blink, adding an additional point to the ‘away’ score. “Fantastic.”

Inspiring his team was a lost cause. The last remaining three minutes were perhaps the longest of each of their lives as they could do nothing but wait for the timer to tick down, dragging their moods down with it. When the buzzer finally rang, Kouyou was hit with the sinking reality: they had just lost the first game of the season.

The team filed into the locker rooms, most players arguing the referee’s calls or bitching about the outcome. Kouyou, however, remained strangely quiet as he headed for the showers, stripping as he walked.

“We’ll kill them next game.” Yuu reassured him, walking over. Kouyou still said nothing and opted to remain in his silence, throwing his jersey in the darker haired teen’s face to successfully shut him up.

The hot water felt good on his skin. He turned the knob as far left as it would go, allowing the water to sear his body, burning his aching muscles. He stood beneath the spray for a long time, his eyes closed and his head full of thoughts. Tomorrow was going to be hell. Popularity wasn’t a constant in his life. If there was anything he could be sure of, it was that he could never be sure where he stood. If his team won, he was a god among his peers, but if they lost, regardless of the circumstances, it was his fault. Such was the burden he bore as team captain.

“Hey, turn off the water. You’re starting to look like a fucking lobster.” Yuu said with a chuckle of amusement, slinging a towel around his own waist and running a second across his disheveled hair. Kouyou mechanically moved to turn off the faucet with a grunt and a halfhearted smirk laced in natural charm thrown over his shoulder, his head still thick with thoughts he was sure would suffocate him right where he stood.

“Did you see Linda out there?” Kouyou asked, though he figured he already knew the answer.

“I think I saw her leave already.” That sounded about right. He’d be floored if she so much as spoke to him tomorrow. It was one matter to have a boyfriend who was captain of the team that had gotten to the state championships seven years running. It was an entirely different matter to be dating one that lost their first home game. Kouyou wrapped a towel low around his hips, ruffling his hair to shake off some of the excess water. He stepped out of the shower and dressed quickly, eager to get out of the school before-

“Takashima!” Kouyou’s stomach practically plummeted as he reached for his gym bag, slinging it over his shoulder before turning around to face his coach after a moment of standing frozen in place with his back turned. “What the hell was that? You let me down tonight. No, you let your _team_ down.” Kouyou looked the shorter man in the eye, his hand clenching into a fist around the strap of his bag. This was the burden he bore as captain, he bitterly reminded himself.

“It won’t happen again, Coach.”

“Damn right it won’t happen again.” Coach Tanaka said before diverting his attention to a sophomore who’d missed a free throw in the second quarter. Kouyou felt Yuu’s eyes on him, but he didn’t return the look. Instead, he simply said, “Can you find a ride home tonight? I have a feeling you won’t want to be in the car with me and my dad.”

Yuu sucked in a sympathetic hiss of air before humming an assurance that he’d hit up one of the other seniors for a ride. Clapping a hand on the other’s shoulder they said their goodbyes, Yuu returning to his locker to gather his things and Kouyou, after taking a quick breath for confidence, took his leave out through the double doors of the locker room and back onto the court. It didn’t take long for Kouyou to spot his father. He stood out, contrasting absurdly in his Armani suit next to the jeans and t-shirts of the remaining fans, having come straight from work to see the game. He had a crop of graying dark hair, and an even darker look on his face as he waited expectantly for his son as he adjusted his glasses that were perched on the bridge of his nose.

The car ride home was tense, and Kouyou reveled in what little silence prevailed before his father spoke. A glance to his left saw the white knuckles of the hands clenching the steering wheel in silent anger, and he slumped down in his seat, looking out the window as he struggled to suppress a sigh. He was too tired to deal with this tonight.  
  
“This is your senior year, Kouyou. Your _senior year_ and you’re starting it off losing to one of the shittiest teams in the state?” Still, Kouyou stared out the window, watching the lights of the passing cars stream by in a blur of color. “What if there had been a scout there tonight? Do you honestly think he would have given you a second look?”

“There weren’t any scouts attending tonight.” Kouyou said rigidly, refusing to give his father the satisfaction of getting angry.

“This was supposed to be your dream! Well, I’ll tell you now, you’re not going to get anywhere if you keep playing like shit!” Kouyou gritted his teeth, recoiling a little at the icy severity in his father’s voice. “When you’re out on that court, you’re a somebody. I don’t know what I have to do to get this through to you: without basketball, you’re _nothing_.”

“That’s _not_ true.” Kouyou interjected in a low voice, his hands gripping the sides of the car seat hard enough that his veins began to throb.

“Yeah, and what else are you good at? Drawing?” His father chuckled darkly with a light shake of his head, and Kouyou felt his chest contract as he recalled the conversation his father had had with his art teacher over conferences two years ago. He bit down hard on his tongue. “No son of mine is going to an art school.” His father buzzed the staff to open the gate when the pulled up to their home and the few seconds stall seemed to stretch out unbearably for Kouyou whose arms had begun to shake with the effort of his restraint. The second they pulled into the driveway he was out of the car and walking briskly to the door, his father’s annoyed call of his name that reminded that they weren’t finished with their discussion falling on deaf ears until he slammed the front door behind him hard enough to echo throughout the walls of his home.

He jogged up to his room, slamming the door shut and falling back on his bed. He stared at the ceiling until he lost track of time, paralyzed. By the time he moved, he was reaching for his backpack to start on what homework he had the patience for. However, he gave up an hour later, too frustrated to even focus properly with how much he still felt absolutely livid; his mood lower than it ever has been in a long time. Swinging his legs over the edge of his bed, he crossed the room to his computer anxiously, switching the desktop on. It purred to life with a dull hum. Kouyou lingered the pointer over his instant messenger button, before remembering the recent game. He doubted anyone who was on could have something to say to him that he’d be interested in hearing. So, with this thought in mind, he lightly shook his head and clicked onto an internet browser instead with a heavy sigh.

After surfing the internet for a while and scrolling through the dashboard of his Tumblr to update his blog, a pop-up came up for an online dating site and his mind was brought back to media class and his assignment. With a flicker of curiosity he logged into his e-mail, sifting through advertisements and spam until he hit a sender he recognized from that afternoon. A smile turned up the edges of his lips as he read, a snort of amusement following soon afterwards. A guy, huh? Yuu would get a kick out of that. Theoretically, they were only required to send one message a day, but he wasn’t particularly tired, so he clicked the reply button and began typing a response.  


**RE: Hey There**  
             **From:** newyorkminute@live.com  
                **To:** Fadeless_Beauty@hotmail.com  
                     _Monday, December 1, 2013 10:37 PM_

Not at all. I’m pretty sure I would have had the same reaction if I were in your shoes. Don’t worry. You’ve got time to correct your first impression. A month, to be exact. (Jk, it’s all good)

Rookie, huh? Alright. No, it’s cool, I like it. Don’t change it.

Surprised, but not disappointed. Girls have a way of making things… complicated lol. I’m a guy, too.

Hah, I’m glad you like it. Yeah, those brownie points belong to me because yes, it _is_ Roman, and I’m fully aware of what it means (I’m willing to share those points with you for catching on. I’m fucking impressed you know) But in all honesty, I’m feeling pretty…well, I’m not feeling anywhere close to the meaning of my name right now.

Kouyou paused for a moment, wondering if he should even be bringing it up. He didn’t know this person, yet, somehow that made it a little easier. He stalled, his fingers lingering over the keys of his keyboard for a beat before he continued.

I’m sorry if this is coming out of left field so sudden, but… do you ever feel like you’re disappointing everyone around you? Like there is just no way you can please everyone without sacrificing yourself somewhere along the way?

Lol sorry for killing the mood there. I guess it isn’t just chicks that can dish out the drama. Um, let’s see… Question #2: What’s the first thing you notice when you look at someone?

                Cheers,  
                **ÆTIUS**  
  


**►►**  


                   **Fly High**  
                    **From:** Fadeless_Beauty@hotmail.com  
        **To:** newyorkminute@live.com  
                     _Monday, December 1, 2013 11:00 PM_

A natural born comedian, I see. Or are you just naturally a cheeky smartass?

Seriously? Don’t lie to me, Aetius. Remember: first impressions. Don’t butter me up. But If that’s the case… I won’t change it.

Shh, it’s fine. You don’t have to apologize. I think everyone feels like that at some point. Hell, I still feel like that sometimes. But if there’s anything I’ve learned and come to accept, it’s that it’s impossible. You can’t satisfy everyone. To be frank, fuck everyone else. Just for a minute. Forget them and what they want. You’re important. This is _your_ life and yours alone. Not theirs. And what’s most important is your happiness, and that you’re content – nothing else.

Hmm, the first thing I notice about someone would probably have to be their eyes. You know what they say: the eyes are mirrors of the soul within, or some shit like that. I tend to notice eyes and definitely smiles.

                              Chin up, cheer up and keep soaring high,  
  
                       **Rookie**  


**•´¯`••´¯`••´¯`••´¯`•**

 

Running was one of the few things that Kouyou looked forward to after game day. It was easier to bask in the satisfyingly intense burn of his muscles than it was to listen to his racing thoughts. Sometimes it almost seemed as if he ran just a little harder – if he could make his feet move just a little faster – he could somehow outrun it all. He could outrun his thoughts, outrun his insecurities, everyone else’s expectations… His feet pounded harder on the indoor track, the slap of rubber from the soles of his tennis shoes and his quick shudders of breath the only sounds his conscience registered. At last he slowed to a stop, his calf muscles aching and his chest rising and falling rapidly. He pressed a hand to his breast, the erratic beats of his heart pulsing against his palm.

“I figured I’d find you in here.” Yuu's voice called from across the gym, catching Kouyou’s attention. Kouyou ran a hand through his damp locks, panting. How had he missed the sound of the doors creaking open? “Does Mrs. Armstrong know you took the liberty of skipping her class?” he asked, grinning.

Kouyou smirked, “Ah, but I’m not skipping. At this very moment, I’m sitting in the nurse’s office recovering from my sudden contraction of a nasty 24-hour virus.”

“Bravo!” Yuu said, giving him a few appreciative claps with a nod of his head, impressed. He crossed over to one side of the gym where a rack of basketballs had been left out by the freshman gym classes. “Game of one-on-one?” he challenged with an arch of an eyebrow, spinning the ball on his index finger cockily with a smirk to match.

“And what is your excuse for cutting class, Mr. Shiroyama?” Kouyou demanded with a mocking severity.

“Tch, I haven’t ditched since our bottle rocket fiasco. I am in need of some rule-breaking TLC.” He chest-passed the ball to Kouyou before tugging his shirt over his head and tossing it off the court, now wearing only a pair of distressed jeans and a black tank top before pulling his dark locks into a messy ponytail with a spare hairtie he fished from his back pocket.

“Aw, and here I thought you were going soft. Yuu Shiroyama, walking the straight and narrow at last.” Kouyou teased, dribbling the ball a few times in place with amusement glittering in his eyes.

“Just pass the ball, dipshit.”

The game of one-on-one cheered Kouyou up. They eventually lost track of the score and ended up just taking shots for fun, though afterwards, Yuu vehemently declared he had, in fact, dethroned the almighty Shima. When the bell rang for last period, Kouyou deemed that he had recovered enough from his “virus” to go to his next class. As he moved toward the door, however, he paused, turning back to face Yuu who was pulling his shirt back on.

“Thanks, Yuu.”

“Oi… Don’t go getting mushy on me, or I’ll have to whoop your ass." Yuu crinkled his nose, paused as if to weigh his next choice of action before smiling lopsidedly with a shrug of his shoulders and winked. "But, you’re welcome.”

Kouyou laughed and walked out of the gym with a shake of his head, heading for his government class feeling a little bit lighter than he had that morning. Sinking into the back row, he started out with all the intentions of paying attention, but twenty minutes later saw to it that he was slumped in his seat, iPhone in hand beneath the wooden top of his desk. After sending out a text to remind the team about practice that night, he was about to turn off his phone when he accidentally hit the e-mail icon app, pulling up his inbox. He only had one new message and he definitely recognized the address. Glancing up at the teacher cautiously, he opened the message and began to read.

 

    **Hey**

**From** : newyorkminute@live.com   
    **To:** Fadeless_Beauty@hotmail.com   
        _Tuesday, December 2, 2013 2:21 PM_

Lol sometimes I like to think I’m a little bit of both.

I’ve got time to make up for my first impression, remember? But I’m serious. I really do like it.

Thanks for the food for thought. It will definitely give me something to chew on over this gloriously monotone lecture I’m sitting through right now.

I agree with you on the eyes part, but mine are so dull. I hope that doesn’t imply anything about my soul lol. Smiles, too. Not enough people smile. That might be why I like talking to you. You just seem like a happy person. It’s refreshing. Does that sound weird?

             Alright, I’m passing the next question on to you. Ask me anything.  
  


                 Successfully cheered up and currently flying pretty steady,   
         **ÆTIUS**  
  


Clicking out of the application, he slid the phone back into his pocket and stared at the clock, his mind full with thoughts of practice, tomorrow night’s game, and, surprisingly enough, Rookie’s words.

By the time the dismissal bell rang, Kouyou was sufficiently confused. _Was_ he happy? Standing, he shoved the thought out of his head as he shoved his books into his arms, striding towards the door. He noticed Linda standing against a row of lockers outside the classroom waiting for him, and he wordlessly took off down the hall causing her to click shut her compact indignantly and walk after him.

“So, you’re talking to me again?” he asked, swinging open his locker door after unlocking it and slipping his government book in amongst the chaos.

“Don’t be like that.” Linda whined softly with a slight pout of her lips, curling her arm into the crook of his. Kouyou slammed his locker shut loudly and she lurched in surprise. “Kouyou,” she continued in that sweet-as-honey voice of hers as soon as she had recovered, “It’s okay. I’ve forgiven you.”

Kouyou looked down at her, slightly incredulous. He figured he should be used to her by now, but… seriously? He didn’t say anything else and just slung his half-empty backpack over one shoulder as she played with the ends of her hair in what he suspected was an attempt to be coy.

“So... Heather’s having a party Friday night.”

Kouyou laughed dryly and shook his head. _Aha_ , so that was it – the reason for her sudden one-eighty. She needed an escort, because in the New York social scene, going alone to a party was a far worse offense than skipping out entirely. Kouyou ran a hand through his hair, slightly annoyed, but anxious to avoid the inevitable feud he knew would follow his refusal.

“Sure. Yeah, whatever. I’ll pick you up at 8.” Kouyou replied mechanically, leaning down to kiss her as he cupped the crook of her neck with his free hand and halfheartedly brushed the pad of his thumb across her cheek. Kissing was, in general, a favorite past time of Kouyou’s. He found, however, that it only remained as such if he didn’t think about whom exactly he was kissing.

That couldn’t be normal.

**►►**

 

“Come on, bring it in!” Kouyou raised his hands and was passed the ball by one of the juniors, tucking it beneath his arm as the guys circled up around him, breathing hard. “Great practice today, guys- a lot of teamwork and a lot of effort. Play like this, and what are we gonna do tomorrow night?”

“WIN!” the resounding shout bellowed at him, echoing off the gym walls. They broke apart, heading towards the locker rooms while Kouyou lingered behind, locking up the basketballs and his stats sheets in the coaches’ office.

“Good practice today, Takashima.” came the voice of Coach Tanaka behind him and Kouyou straightened, locking up behind him. “You might just be NYU material after all.”

New York University: 19,000 undergraduates and 10 coveted spots on the men’s varsity basketball team. It had been all he had talked about since he had first picked up a basketball six years ago – it had been all anyone had talked about, really. From the second he scored the winning shot in his first intramural scrimmage, all he had heard was: NYU, starting line up. He’d go to high school, be captain of the team, get recruited senior year, and get a scholarship to play in the fall. The words sounded so faded in his head; he had heard them so many times, they had almost begun to lose their meaning.

“Just hoping the recruiters feel that way, Coach.” Kouyou replied, plastering a smile on his face. Coach Tanaka clapped his shoulder, sending him on his way to get cleaned up. As he entered the locker room, a half-naked Yuu peeked his head out from behind a locker.

“There’s my soaring eagle.” he teased as Kouyou made his way over to his locker, watching as he slipped his own shirt over his head and used it to wipe the sweat from his collarbone. “Happiness suits you way better, did you know that?”

Rookie’s words seared through his head so suddenly, Kouyou felt as if he had been burned from the inside beneath his very skin. _Was he happy_? His grip tightened momentarily on the metal door of his locker as he stared into the darkness inside it. Why couldn’t he answer?

“Hey, you okay?” Yuu’s concerned voice broke his focus and he instantly unclenched his fist, letting it drop back loosely at his side.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just thinking about how much we are going to kill at tomorrow’s game.” He turned, flashing his best friend a roguish smirk. And just like that, the thoughts were gone, and Kouyou was free to sink back into the bubblegum-pink glow of his perfect life; uncaring and, more importantly, unquestioning.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“Not even in your wildest wet dreams imaginable would thinking that we’re friends because of this would ever cross my mind.”_

“The Knicks _killed_ tonight!” Yuu said, lightly punching the air for emphasis. Kouyou was equally pumped as he slid into the driver’s seat and revved the engine, still on his post-NBA game high. Yuu blared the radio, rolling down his window and slipping his torso out of the opened space before letting out an excited howl that was quickly sucked into the vacuum of the New York night, lost in the cacophony of conversation and car sirens.

Laughing, Kouyou reached out a hand and grabbed him by the waistband of his jeans, giving a hard tug to pull him back into the car. “That’s gonna be us tomorrow.” Yuu said, his face flushed with excitement and his dark locks an attractive mused mess that framed his face, his eyes still watery from the smoke of the pub they had watched the game in amongst a horde of blue and orange-clad fans. He ran a hand through his hair, incapable of sitting still for even a second. Kouyou pulled into the lanes of traffic just as the stoplight blinked yellow, then red, and he pressed down on the brake, sitting impatiently as the adjacent lines of cars began to streak past whilst drumming his fingertips atop of the steering wheel to the beat of the song currently playing on the radio.

“Don’t we know that kid?” Yuu asked suddenly, sticking his head out the window once more to peer across the street. Kouyou glanced away from the light and followed Yuu’s gaze to a singular figure standing awkwardly at a bus stop.

“It’s Takanori.” Kouyou said suddenly in dawning recognition, watching as the petite figure adjusted his winter coat before wrapping his arms around himself after checking his wrist watch. With a soft frown, Kouyou glanced at the time glowing on the stereo face. “Freak probably doesn’t realize that the buses don’t run this late.”

Yuu got a laugh out of this, returning back inside the car. “Fucking idiot can’t get anything right. Not even read the time schedule.” Kouyou laughed dutifully along with his friend as the light flickered back to green, and before pressing down on the gas, he cast a final glance at Takanori, only to shoot through the intersection afterwards.

“When are you getting your car back, Yuu? As much as I love playing the driver to your Miss Daisy, you’re killing me on gas.” They sped along through the busy streets, Kouyou driving the route from memory. He pulled the Porsche along the curb of a tower of high-end apartments where Yuu lived.

“ _Chiiill,_ ” Yuu said, adding several additional syllables to the word. He stepped out of the car, grabbing his wallet from the dashboard and tossing a charmingly crooked smile in Kouyou’s direction. “I’ll get it back eventually. You just worry that pretty little head of yours about tomorrow’s game, and more precisely, about how not to suck again.” Kouyou threw the nearest thing available at his head and Yuu snapped the door shut with a boisterous laugh which was immediately recognized by the doorman who let him inside the building with a rueful shake of the head. With Yuu gone, Kouyou took the opportunity to pull his phone from his pocket. He felt almost guilty as he tapped the e-mail icon expectantly, as if he had to hide his eagerness towards the assignment. He was pretty sure Yuu hadn’t e-mailed his partner once in the past three days, and he felt as if his own regular communication incriminated him in some kind of way.

He noticed that he had three new messages, but closer examination deemed them all as spam. He deleted them immediately with a soft huff and a frown that weighed heavy at his eyebrows. Rookie hadn’t messaged him all day. Immediately, however, he stomped out the small strains of concern in disgust, clicking out of the application in annoyance with a roll of his eyes. He hooked his phone up to the car jack and shuffled his collection of songs, tired of the continuous string of radio ads, before entering back into the stream of traffic that continued to thin out as the night sky steadily grew darker.

His thoughts focused on tomorrow’s game instead of the ridiculous ping of concern that tried its best to clutch onto him, and he drove back the way he’d came in a reverie. It remained unbroken until he saw the familiar petite figure still standing in the cold, still waiting for a bus Kouyou knew wasn’t going to come.

_No_ , he told himself adamantly, _don’t you_ dare _pull over_. Though the light had turned green, he stalled for a moment, causing the car behind him to lean angrily on their horn. “Shit.” Conflicted, Kouyou finally made a move, pulling out of traffic and siding up along the curb. Pressing a hand to his temple and dragging it down his face in annoyance with himself, he rolled down the window after unfastening his seat belt, leaning over far enough so that the street lights caught his face, illuminating it in the darkness.

“What the fuck are you doing, Matsumoto?” Kouyou questioned, his voice almost a snarl in its severity as he met Takanori’s gaze. He chose to ignore the genuine look of surprise that etched across Takanori's face when the other boy recognized him.

“What the f-fuck does it look like I’m d-doing?” Takanori bit back with a well-timed shiver, his dark eyes narrowing and shoulders visibly tensing under Kouyou’s gaze regardless of, to Kouyou’s realization, how much they trembled. “Look. Do us both the favor and l-leave. I’m not in the mood to tolerate your existence right now, so go home – or wherever you were intending to g-go.”

It was more than obvious that Takanori was in a sour mood, and perhaps Kouyou was actually intrigued to know what could have possibly been the cause. But this wasn’t how Kouyou intended things to play out. Hell, he didn’t know exactly how he wanted anything to play out in the first place, but… He opened his mouth and hesitated, paused as if to weigh his decisions before briefly closing his eyes, inhaling slowly through his nostrils, and tried again. “Shut up and get in the car. Before I change my mind.” he said with a resigned sigh, unlocking the door for Takanori to climb in the passenger’s seat before beckoning him to do so with a brief tilt of his head; settling back into his own seat.

“Don’t think this means we’re friends or anything.” Kouyou added quickly, refusing to meet the other boy’s gaze when Takanori finally hauled ass to enter the welcoming warmth of Kouyou’s Porsche after getting over his initial shock and, at first, stubborn hesitancy.

Takanori rolled his eyes. “Not even in your wildest wet dreams imaginable would thinking that we’re friends because of this would ever cross my mind.”

His mood considerably darker than it had been all evening, Kouyou pulled the car forward. “Where are we going?” he asked shortly after snorting at the response he was given, keeping his eyes trained on the road.

He followed the directions he was given resolutely, avoiding conversation like the plague. They drove accompanied to the sounds of Guns ‘n’ Roses straining out of his iPhone for quite a while before the song changed, and Kouyou’s ears were assailed by Electric Six.

♪ _You! I wanna take you to a gay bar! I wanna take you to a gay bar! I wanna take you to a gay bar, gay bar, gay bar._ ♫

Kouyou whipped his head in sheer surprise towards his phone and simultaneously three car horns screamed at him. He swore loudly, slamming on the brakes so suddenly and very narrowly avoiding a collision with the back of the car in front of him while nearly jerking forward a partially-asleep Takanori that had to brace a hand at Kouyou’s shoulder and grip the fabric of his shirt with a cry.

“ _What the hell_!”

♪ _I’ve got something to put in you. I’ve got something to put in you. I’ve got something to put in you at the gay bar, gay bar, gay bar._ ♫

Kouyou’s hand shot out like lightening to make a grab for his phone, but he only succeeded in knocking it to the ground at Takanori’s feet. “Fuck!” he shouted, partly in frustration and majority in order to be heard over the blaring music. “Turn that off!” he yelled, once again swerving to avoid an oncoming car.

"What do you mean 'turn it off'? I can't fucking see it!" Takanori yelled back just as loud, his voice a crack from pitching in sheer panic at the sharp jerking motion of the car to narrowly avoid crashing into the car of a royally pissed drive that shouted obscenities at Kouyou's recklessness.

When he was able to Kouyou immediately pulled over, unhooking his seat belt to lean over and frantically feel around the phone himself. The moment his fingers made contact with it he snatched it off the floorboard and shut it off roughly. Crisp silence filled the car. “Don’t. Say. _Anything_.” he demanded crossly, more unable than ever to meet Takanori’s gaze. For a moment, if there was anything that Kouyou hoped for, it would be that Takanori had an actual heart to do as he said and leave it at that. Sooner rather than later he discovered that he was wrong. Oh, he was so very, very wrong. The thick silence that they shared  - the same silence Kouyou thought he would choke off of - was disrupted by bubbles of laughter that tumbled from the boy beside him. He laughed so much Kouyou could make out from where he sat that tears began to accumulate at the ends of Takanori's eyes as he tossed his head back with mirth after a brief moment of hunching over, holding his sides; his face burning with embarrassment. It colored him red and his stomach felt an odd flutter of something just from Takanori’s laughter alone, and t made him feel so-

“ _Get out_.” Kouyou hissed, unbuckling his seat belt to lean over and open the passenger’s side door, only to be halted by a hand that grabbed him by the sleeve of his shirt. He met Takanori's eyes that glimmered with tears of laughter, undoubted amusement, and a grin that made the back of Kouyou’s neck burn.

“Wait, wait! Okay, this- wait.” Takanori lowered his head, a series of deep chuckles filling the space between them that Kouyou’s sharp glare could do nothing to cease until he took a deep breath through his nostrils to calm himself. He raised his eyes to meet Kouyou's gaze once more, “Whatever you say. This didn’t happen. It didn’t happen. I swear.” Kouyou regarded him for a little longer, mostly to make sure that he meant every word. The rest of his lingering reasoning was to eye the remaining grin that stained full lips decorated with a lip ring that his gaze always found first. Once releasing his arm from Takanori’s hold he returned back to his steering wheel and drove, hoping that they wouldn’t have to pull over for a second time. Let alone nearly die in the process.

When they finally arrived at Takanori’s house, Kouyou cast a glance at the darker haired boy as he stepped out with a silent convey of thanks before stubbornly turning his head to look out his own window once more, passing his fingers through his locks.

If Takanori had turned around to look back, he would have noticed that Kouyou’s Porsche remained unmoved until he was safely inside the warmth of his home and out of the frigid cold.  
  
  


**►►**   
  
  


“This is potentially the stupidest idea you’ve ever had yet.” Kouyou said as he pulled out the folded piece of paper from his pocket, entering the characters written on it into the password section of the login screen. The pointer mutated into an hourglass as the system verified the combination, and Kouyou cast a nervous glance around the classroom, which was still, thankfully, empty.

“I _told_ you already. If I fail this class, there is no way the school is gonna let coach put me in the game. All my grade needs is a little,” Yuu paused, trying to find the right word as his fingers halted from toying with the ends of his ponytail. “Boost.” he decided on finally, tossing his words over his shoulder as he kept watch in the doorway, unraveling another stick of gum to shove into his mouth and chew distractedly.

“Yeah, a boost that is gonna get us all fucking expelled.” piqued one of their fellow teammates, Tora, who was playing sentry at the corner down the hall.

“If you keep talking so loud, we’re definitely gonna get caught.” Yuu snapped warningly.

“Guys, just _shut up_!” Kouyou snapped, the hour glass finally disappearing and making way for the blue home screen. “I’m in.” He scanned his eyes across the display, finding the GradeQuick icon after a few moments. His stomach felt sick, as if his insides had twisted into a nasty nervous knot and wouldn’t come undone. “How much of a boost are we talking here, Yuu?” Kouyou asked, scrolling through the list of enrolled students. His eyes found Shiroyama and eventually Yuu. Double clicking, he pulled up Yuu’s grade report, before letting out a horrified hiss. “You’re making a 7%? How the fuck can you make a 7%?”

Yuu grinned sheepishly. “I’m not good at math, okay?”

“There’s no way she’s not going to notice a jump from a 7% to a 60.” Kouyou scoffed, taking in the long line of 0’s on the page incredulously.

“Look, my brother did this all the time when he was a senior.” Which was precisely how they’d gotten the password to begin with, and Yuu had gotten a massive debt to pay off in order to assure his brother’s silence. “He said she never noticed once.”

With a feeling equivalent to signing his soul to the devil, Kouyou typed in a few numbers in place of the zeros, watching the 7 rack up to an 18, 47, then finally a 63. “63%.” he announced with a relieved sigh, not bothering to look up. “It isn’t pretty, but you passed.” He waited for Yuu’s sarcastic retort, Tora's taunting laugh, but was met with silence. “Guys?” He glanced up… only to see that the doorway was empty.

In a sweep of panic, Kouyou clicked out of the program, logging off and practically throwing himself out of the chair just as he heard the click-clack of heels approaching. _Shit shit shit shit shit_ , was the eloquent mantra playing in his head as he snatched the piece of paper off the teacher’s desk and sprinted towards the door. He made it only two steps before a stern, feminine voice halted him in his tracks with just two words alone.

“ **Kouyou Takashima**.”

Which was precisely how that very afternoon at 3:15 on the dot, he found himself sitting in detention. Although she hadn’t figured out what exactly he’d been doing in her room, she determined that going through the effort of jimmying the lock merited a week’s detention all on its own. Kouyou noticed Yuu walking past, looking slightly frantic. In a way, Kouyou had almost gotten off easier. Yuu was the one who was going to have to tell Coach Tanaka why their team captain wasn’t at practice with their second game of the season approaching in a matter of hours.

Kouyou slumped down further in his seat, ignoring the thin stream of stoners and self-proclaimed rebels who walked in to join him, each avoiding the seats next to him like the he was a goddamn leper. It seemed like for once in his life, it was Kouyou who was the outcast, and he snorted quietly to himself at the irony with a light shake of his head. He heard the door whine in protest as it was opened once more and he glanced up, about to look away when he realized who it was. For a moment, his eyes did a double take, and with their held gaze came the faltering halt in Takanori’s footsteps after he greeted the group of stoners in the far back with a small crooked grin that was nowhere to be seen as he slowly drew closer after giving a wave in response to the chorus call of his name. It was Kouyou that averted his gaze first, and ignored the way the nape of his neck steadily grew warm underneath a gaze that felt as if it wouldn’t leave.

He expelled a long sigh, slumping down lower in seat as the last detainees trickled into the room- a medley of neon hair and piercings- and the teacher proctoring shut the door, sealing their fate. Despite being unable to help it, his eyes widened slightly in surprise as Takanori opted to sit down in the desk in front of him, almost as if his presence was some small gesture of sympathy for the fact that he was secluded from the majority. Annoyed by what he assumed was an act of unwanted pity, Kouyou shoved his own backpack off his desk noisily, startling those in the room who weren’t too high to have missed it. He turned his head with a soft frown, a click of his tongue, and stared longingly out the window, taking in the heavy stream of students heading towards the parking lot, spilling out onto the sidewalks towards the nearest subway station. Soon, the surge slowed to a few lingering teenagers before the view cleared entirely, making way for the fluorescent red and yellow streaks of brake lights and the colorful stands of street vendors. However, he was startled out of his reverie however at the hushed male voice in front of him, barely audible over the low buzz in the room.

“Hey,” Takanori murmured in a hushed tone as he retrieved a pencil from his bag and placed the small canvas he carried with him in his lap to have better leverage to draw onto it instead of hunching over, part of the canvas already painted in a test of monochromatic shades of blue in water color paint. He moved his wrist over a bird he had drawn during his art class period, fallen feathers from the wings suspended in midair yet held with strong dignity. “Aside from nearly getting us killed, I wanted to say thanks for the ride last night. You didn’t have to do that. You kinda told me not to say anything after your little incident, but…I didn’t mean to laugh. Honestly. It was-“

"What part of ‘we’re not friends’ didn’t you understand?” Kouyou snapped, a little too loudly. A few people looked over curiously and he ducked his head in embarrassment, his fringe casting a shadow over his eyes. At Takanori’s comment about his phone– his entire gesture, period - Kouyou had the decency to blush, the tips of his ears reddening at the memory and the ghost of Takanori's laugh ringing faintly in his ears. “That comment about not saying anything was meant to carry over into today, too.” he grumbled, voice lower this time.

Kouyou pulled out his phone (the same one that had served as the source of his humiliation and betrayed him, ironically enough) and several beats passed,  appearing to have long ended the conversation. “…You’re welcome.” he muttered suddenly, so softly he wasn’t even sure Takanori had heard as his eyes flickered up to momentarily stare at the back of Takanori’s head. _All the same_ , he thought to himself as his eyes caught sight of the pause Takanori’s wrist poised over his canvas from where he sat, _the last thing I need is to be making nice with the resident faggot_.

It disturbed him to realize that the words lacked the bitterness they once held.

Pushing all thoughts of his recent encounter aside, Kouyou lowered his eyes and typed mechanically away on his phone, instinctively texting Yuu; despite the fact that his teammate was in practice. He quickly ran out of things to do and stared up at the clock tortuously, who’s ticking, he swore on all that he loved, was slowing between each second. After a while the phone’s display lit up suddenly, alerting him that he had one new e-mail.

_Rookie_ – The name flashed through his mind like an arrow, sharp and sudden. Scooping up the phone he clicked into the application, scanning the subject line. **“25% Off Select Merchandise at Sport’s Authority!”** He deleted it, feeling something akin to sinking disappointment as he realized he had no other messages.

“I’m acting like a fucking girl.” he muttered mutinously to himself, once again disgusted by his investment in the assignment as he passed his fingers through his locks with a heavy sigh. He didn’t even bother to humor the thought that it went beyond that.

He spent the rest of the time by wasting it, watching the clock hands with a desperate stare. When at last the proctor announced they could leave, Kouyou was the first to stand out of his seat, shoving his phone in his pocket and scooping his backpack off the floor anxiously. He moved forward, casting a glance at Takanori as he passed. It was only when noticing for the first time the canvas in his lap that he paused. A beat passed, and Kouyou admired the contents of the canvas and the splay of fingernails painted with chipping black nail polish and water paint with lightly lidded eyes, a thin sort of silence stretching between them before the door to the room suddenly flew open, a convoy of sweaty seniors surging in to claim their captain straight from practice. Yuu was at the front, yelling out a loud battle cry as they latched onto him, pulling him to the door in retreat and stealing him from the world where, for the first time in his life, he felt completely alone in. The door swung shut behind them, ultimately disconnecting the lingering gaze that was unknowingly shared between their captain and Takanori as they ran down the halls towards the gym, a few lingering shouts left in their wake and a small emptiness in the pit of Kouyou’s stomach.  
  
  


  
**►►**

 

  
_Slap. Squeak. Swish._

The rubber felt good beneath his fingers as he caught the ball, dribbling once, faking left and throwing another two point. Swish – the crowd exploded. Kouyou lifted the hem of his jersey to wipe the sweat from his eyes, his chest rising and falling fast as he fought to catch his breath.

“There’s a minute thirty left in the game,” he told his team mates fervently as they ran back to center court for what would be the final play. “we’re ahead by one. Whatever you do, _do not let them score_.” Their impromptu huddle broke with shouts of ‘ _Tigers_!’ and game resumed, the glowing red numbers on the clock ominously ticking down their fate.

The opposing team stole the ball, running down the court. Kouyou watched in dread as a player made a lay-up, locking in one more point. They were tired. “What the hell did I just tell them?” he growled to himself, glancing frantically at the clock. 00:30 remaining. One of his team mates caught the rebound and made it a few steps before being swarmed by black and gold jerseys. Kouyou took off down the court, ducking away from the player guarding him and stretching to catch the ball as it sailed across the court, making a perfect arc in the air.

His palms burned as the ball made contact with his skin. He looked up. He was only at the center line. Trying to shoot from his position was suicide, a fact that was confirmed when two defensive players ran to cover him. He noticed Yuu at the two point line, unblocked. He glanced at the clock.

00:15.

He wished he could have said that time went still in that moment- that would have at least gave him a chance to think. No, instead, time ticked by dangerously fast, the screams of the crowd, his teammates and Yuu blaring in his ears. Without thinking, he bent low… and shot.

The crowd exploded.

It wasn’t pretty – the ball circled the rim in two painfully slow spirals, shuddering on the precipice for an unbearable second – but it went in. Redemption.

“What the fuck was that?” Yuu demanded over the buzz of the fans in the stands as he stormed over.

“Um, I think that’s called _winning_.” Kouyou laughed with a grin that faltered and fell almost immediately after noticing his best friend’s expression.

“I was wide open!” Yuu nearly shouted, shoving at sweat-slicked shoulder hard.

“It went in, alright?” Kouyou snapped quickly, annoyed to be snatched down from his high so quickly, far too soon.

“Barely! That was stupid. What were you thinking? You’re supposed to be captain, Kouyou. You can’t make risky shots like that to stroke your goddamn ego!”

“What if there are scouts out there?” Kouyou demanded, casting a glance and gesturing to the row of bleachers on the sidelines. “I need to impress them! It has to be me who takes the winning shot, so they can recruit me for next year-”

“What about the rest of us, huh? What about _me_?" Yuu pressed a fist to his chest, and for a fraction of a second something stuttered and pulled in Kouyou's chest at the slip of hurt cracking through the other boy's anger. "Maybe _I_ want to be the one the scouts look at. Did you ever think about that, _captain_?” Yuu practically spat, gaze heated and nostrils flared in his anger. Kouyou was startled. Now that he thought about it, he had never really stopped to ask Yuu what he wanted to do. All the conversations they’d ever had about college, Kouyou had starred in as a member of the NYU starting line-up. It had always been about what he wanted, what he needed to strive for. Never had he... 

“Yuu… Yuu," Kouyou made a grab for his best friend only to be shoved away, as if his touch burned. "Yuu, I-”

“No, don’t bother. Fuck you, Kouyou.” Without a second glance thrown in regard Yuu turned around roughly and walked off, punching the wall outside the locker room as he walked inside. Kouyou watched him go, but didn’t have much time to recover before the rest of his team, somehow having missed the conflict, enveloped him, slapping his damp shoulder and giving him rounds of high fives as the cheerleaders led the remaining fans in an upbeat rendition of the school’s fight song.

Even winning seemed to come with a price.

When he got home, Kouyou showered and pulled on a pair of clean boxers along with a pair of sweatpants before collapsing into bed. Somehow, he was managing to feel even worse than when he’d lost. He considered texting Yuu to apologize and talk the issue out, but the thought made him feel awkward. So, he decided to give him some space. As he turned off the light in his room, he cast the computer monitor in the corner a half-lidded glance, yawning, and wondering despite himself where Rookie was tonight. What was he doing? Who was he with? Did he go to the game?

Too tired to fight them, these were the thoughts that comforted him as darkness consumed him with a close of his eyes, and he fell into the warm black waters of slumber with Rookie a fingertips’ brush away in his thoughts.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“How did you realize that you liked girls?”_

**Hey**  
         From: [Fadeless_Beauty@hotmail.com](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=mailto%3AFadeless_Beauty%40hotmail.com&t=NGJjMWE1MzBhNmZkZGNjNGRiYzNjMWQ0MWVlYjdiMjYzM2NmZjRjYyx4UGdpZzgzbg%3D%3D&b=t%3Az1jlnJPC-wfvRAGhAPUqjg&p=http%3A%2F%2Furuhaxrukifanfics.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F101659546266%2Ftitle-only-you-pairing-uruki-uruha-x-ruki-and&m=1)  
To: [newyorkminute@gmail.com](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=mailto%3Anewyorkminute%40gmail.com&t=NzI2ZTRkYWQwYzM1OWU5MDQ0NTZhZWExY2UxN2ZlOTUxYzNkN2Q5OCx4UGdpZzgzbg%3D%3D&b=t%3Az1jlnJPC-wfvRAGhAPUqjg&p=http%3A%2F%2Furuhaxrukifanfics.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F101659546266%2Ftitle-only-you-pairing-uruki-uruha-x-ruki-and&m=1)  
_Friday, December 5, 2013 12:30AM_  
  
Hey, no problem at all. I’m glad to have given you something to mull over for the day.

 By the way… What the hell are you doing sending me emails in the middle of class, anyway? Pay attention to your glorious monotone lectures! As some teachers say: “You will thank me in four to five years.”  
  
Dull eyes, huh? Stop being so down on yourself. I’m sure your eyes aren’t dull at all. I completely agree about smiles, though.

Aww, thanks.  It doesn’t sound weird at all, don't worry 'bout it. I guess I try? There’s not enough of it around here, mm? I’m really glad that you like talking with me, because I like talking to you, too. Speaking of talking, sorry for the two days absence. I was a bit busy and wasn’t really in the mood to get on the computer and check my email, let alone deal with people. Family and school issues are a pain, but I will definitely try my best to reply frequently no matter how I feel, ‘kay? This being a grade and all aside, I really don’t want to keep you hanging.  
  
 My turn to ask a question, huh? Lol alright, let’s see. Umm… I can’t think of anything right now, but here goes: What do you do in your spare time? Draw? Play any instruments? Sports?  
  
Speaking of sports, did you go to the game tonight- er, last night, since it’s already 12AM? That last move was pretty risky, but a good one none the less. A job well done, at least?  
  
             From a friend,

**Rookie  
**   
  


►►  
  
  


Morning came, bringing with it the roller coaster highs and lows of the night before. Kouyou pulled himself out of bed with a low groan, dressing slowly and making his way downstairs. The house was silent. As he grabbed his keys and a coat twenty minutes later, he paused in front of the foyer mirror; massive and gilded with what he wouldn’t doubt was real gold. For the first time in a long time, he stood in front of it, his reflection frozen within the frame staring back at him. He stayed that way until he heard the shuffle of footsteps on the floor above him, and then he left, stepping out to greet the cold December air before he had time to discover whose feet they belonged to.   
  
For once he arrived at school early, burning the extra time he had left by chatting with his classmates. With last night’s victory still fresh, the halls were buzzing with his name on their lips, and for a moment he felt the glow of godhood warm him from within.   
  
“Great game last night, Shima!” a fellow senior shouted at him, clapping him on the shoulder.   
  
“You sure gave us something to cheer for,” one of Linda’s squad members said to him, tossing him a catty wink and twirling off in a flurry of golden hair and the rich scent of Dior.   
  
A slow smile started to bloom across Kouyou’s face as a few of his teammates swarmed him, but the school doors opened and his chest clenched. Yuu strode in, Karen following behind him with a giant pink bubble ballooning from her mouth, and upon being greeted with the sight of his captain he quickly stormed off down one of the adjacent hallways, looking sullen. Kouyou sighed, running a hand through his hair. He has been friends with Yuu since their mother’s had been dishing out 1,000 bucks a pop for celebrity birthing classes eighteen years ago, and in that time, if there was anything he’s learned, it was that Yuu had an impressive temper.   
  
By lunch, it seemed that, if possible, Yuu’s temper had only gotten worse. Kouyou walked into the cafeteria late, mechanically holding Linda’s hand. Now that she was back to being the girlfriend of the star basketball player, he couldn’t pry her off him if he wanted to. Sometimes it was just easier not to fight it. As they walked over to their usual table, Linda abandoned him to slide into an empty seat next to a gaggle of model-esque girls, and he headed towards the other end of the table to snag the remaining seat next to Yuu.   
  
“Kouyou!” Tora greeted him, catching Yuu’s attention. The darker haired boy looked up and his face turned absolutely mutinous when he realized where Kouyou was heading. Roughly, he shoved his backpack in the empty seat.   
  
“Sorry. This seat’s taken.” he growled. Kouyou, once pausing in his steps, stared at him; eyes widening slightly in surprise and, soon, bubbling anger.   
  
“By who?” he demanded incredulously, raising his voice in his slip of anger. Yuu stood up threateningly and Kouyou glanced around, feeling the first sets of eyes begin to land upon him, watching the conflict unfold.   
  
“By my ass. Sit somewhere else.”   
  
Kouyou opened his mouth to speak, but with each passing second he could feel more eyes turning to face him. He swallowed, glancing around at the other tables. He had stayed behind in his previous class to try negotiating a detention schedule better suited for his game days, so by now, every table was full. With a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach, he looked to his second choice that was filled with members of the track team. Full. The baseball table, the lacrosse table, and even the fucking golf club table – full. Finally, his eyes alighted on a table on the far side of the room, a straggle of scene kids and rejects filling only about half of the seats; the outcasts. It was then that Kouyou glanced back at Yuu who had followed his gaze, and the smug expression that tainted his features made him want to wipe it clean with his fist. Kouyou looked to his friend, then the table, his stomach tightening as he locked eyes with Takanori from across the room.   
  
Without a word Kouyou turned, digging his shoulder roughly into the cafeteria doors and disappearing out into the hall with the nape of his neck burning. Stopping by his locker, he grabbed his warm-up jacket and sat down on one of the outdoor picnic tables. The seniors usually ate out in the courtyard when the weather was nice. Kouyou looked up and a thin shower of snow decided to hit his face at that precise moment, having been shaken loose from a tree branch above his head. Conditions were… not exactly ideal today.   
  
Shivering, he ate sullenly and pulled out his phone to send an annoyed text to Linda whom, he had noticed, hadn’t cared to follow after him. But he was distracted when he saw the little number one next to his e-mail icon app, alerting him of one new message. He pressed his fist against his softly parted lips, staring at it.  _Stop it,_  he told himself. Despite his warning though, he couldn’t help the jolt of excitement that coursed through him upon opening the message.  _Rookie._    
  
As he read the message, Kouyou couldn’t help but laugh a little. Was he at the game? If only he knew. Rookie’s words brought a small smile to his face, and he immediately hit the reply button, his frozen fingers typing clumsily at the keys in the winter cold. 

 

 **Me Again**    
**From:**  [newyorkminute@gmail.com](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=mailto%3Anewyorkminute%40gmail.com&t=NzI2ZTRkYWQwYzM1OWU5MDQ0NTZhZWExY2UxN2ZlOTUxYzNkN2Q5OCx4UGdpZzgzbg%3D%3D&b=t%3Az1jlnJPC-wfvRAGhAPUqjg&p=http%3A%2F%2Furuhaxrukifanfics.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F101659546266%2Ftitle-only-you-pairing-uruki-uruha-x-ruki-and&m=1)   
**To:**  [Fadeless_Beauty@hotmail.com](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=mailto%3AFadeless_Beauty%40hotmail.com&t=NGJjMWE1MzBhNmZkZGNjNGRiYzNjMWQ0MWVlYjdiMjYzM2NmZjRjYyx4UGdpZzgzbg%3D%3D&b=t%3Az1jlnJPC-wfvRAGhAPUqjg&p=http%3A%2F%2Furuhaxrukifanfics.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F101659546266%2Ftitle-only-you-pairing-uruki-uruha-x-ruki-and&m=1)   
_Friday, December 5, 2013 12:17 PM_    
  
Oh, and what about you? Mailing me at midnight so you can be bright eyed for those glorious lectures of your own?   
  
Welcome back. It’s seriously so good to hear from you again. Fucking right you will. Email me even when you feel shittier than shit itself, because 9 out of 10 majority I’m here for you to rant to and try to help you not feel like, well, shit. You know, the more I talk to you, the more I wonder if we could ever be friends outside the anonymity of the internet. (damn, I think I just found the purpose of this assignment lol)   
  
My spare time… I guess you could say sports. They’re starting to turn more into work than free time, though. I, um... I actually play piano. Sometimes. Not nearly as much as I used to. I used to take lessons when I was little, and my mom used to give lessons way back when, dropping by those bougie ballet studios to play for the dancers or whatever. Another thing I really like doing is painting - used to. I haven't picked up a paintbrush outside of class in two years. But, enough about me.  What about you? I’m dying to know Rookie’s hidden talents.  
  
Yeah, actually, I _was_ at the game. Ahh, you’re referring to the Shima-Ten-Seconds-On-The-Clock winning shot? Pretty stupid if you ask me. Not many people noticed, but did you see the look on Shiroyama’s face after the game? You’d have to be one hell of a jerk to stick it to your best friend like that.   
  
…unless you’re one of the many who have fallen victim to Shima’s charm?   
  
Yours,

**ÆTIUS**

Setting down his phone on the snow-blanketed table top, Kouyou took a long sip of his protein shake. Though the e-mail was long sent, somehow his mind was still lingering on the words he had written. Curiously, he ran a fingertip along the table top, carving the name  _Aetius_  into the shallow layer of snow. He stared at the word for a long time before scooping his phone off the table and returning inside the building as the first bell rang while stuffing his hand inside the pockets of his jacket, leaving behind him the frozen world and his very mark on it.  
  


►► 

 

“When are you…” Kouyou trailed off awkwardly. He had to strain to be heard over the music that Yuu had blasted immediately upon entering the car in hopes of killing all opportunity for any sort of conversation.   
  
“Tomorrow.” Yuu said gruffly in response to the unfinished question, arms crossed over his chest like a sullen child. Kouyou’s grip tightened around the steering wheel. Tomorrow Yuu would have his car back, and Kouyou wouldn’t have to play chauffeur anymore to his temperamental friend.   
  
An awkward silence stretched, filled by the sounds of blaring music and the chatter of girls in the backseat. Karen and Linda were applying lip gloss to their lips, their bare legs stretching out for what looked like miles, barely concealed by slinky dresses and stiletto heels. Kouyou turned down a residential street, pulling his Porsche into a row of cars lining the curb and killing the engine. He looked over and saw Yuu drinking heavily from a bottle of Jack Daniel’s. When he pulled the bottle away from his mouth, his eyes were watering from the burn of alcohol coursing down his throat.   
  
“Obviously Yuu’s not driving tonight.” Kouyou muttered to himself dryly, stepping out of the car and snapping the door shut behind him. He tossed the keys into the pocket of his jacket before following Linda inside, her slender hand latching onto the crook of his arm as she led him into the haze of dim lights, sweaty bodies and pulsating music. Fashionably late as always, the stench of beer was already heavy in the air by the time they arrived. Within minutes, Kouyou felt a cup be shoved in his hands, and with time the slow buzz began to overtake him.   
  
“Dance with me.” Linda whispered alluringly, pulling him toward the group of teenagers in the living room that were grinding and writhing in sync with the beat of the music that played. Flushed, Kouyou stripped off his jacket and tossed it over an umbrella stand, telling himself to remember it later. Hours passed filled with dancing and talking, and drinking, and a dizzying mix of the entire three. Somehow, while Linda was pressed against him, her lips occasionally tracing his jawline, she was the last thing on his mind. Her body molding against his managed to press the phone in his pocket closer to his skin, and his mind automatically chased after the thought of his mysterious pen pal. Was he at the party? Was he dancing right now, like Kouyou was dancing with Linda? His mind started to escape his grasp of control with the aid of alcohol, and Kouyou wondered how it would feel like if Rookie were dancing with him instead. He placed his hands on Linda’s rounded hips and imagined them narrower, slowly ran a hand along her side and found himself ignoring the sensual curves her body contained.

What would it be like, he found himself wondering, to have a guy in his arms? He took a swill of beer from his cup, swallowing just in time for Linda’s mouth to find his, her plush lips crushing his own as her hand ran through his hair. A delicious shiver ran up his spine and his mouth opened for Linda's tongue that sought entry with a muffled sigh. What if it weren’t Linda who was-   
  
Kouyou’s eyes snapped open suddenly and he tore his mouth away from his girlfriend’s, taking a shaky step back. “Kouyou? What’s wrong?” Linda asked, gripping his arm with her perfectly manicured hand as she peered up at him through long eyelashes. Instead of answering automatically, he stared blankly down at her hand, still horrified by his own thoughts.   
  
“I-" Kouyou frowned, completely at a loss. "I’m gonna get another beer.” he mumbled at long last, gently shrugging off her hand to weave himself through the crowd of people towards the kitchen. As he walked through the hallway he glanced at the umbrella stand in the corner, only to notice that it was now bare. Had his jacket been there earlier? He couldn’t remember.

Pushing his way through the last tangle of teenagers that talked and occasionally made out up against the corner of a far wall, he stumbled into the kitchen. The overhead lights burned and blurred his vision as he waited for them to adjust, and he took in a deep breath of air, with it inhaling the sweet, pungent smell of beer. Sparsely occupied, he moved about the kitchen freely. Kouyou stood over the sink for a moment, his hands gripping the edge of the counter with paling knuckles. Hesitantly, he lifted his head and stared at the haunting reflection that looked back at him. His skin was slightly damp with sweat, and his hair was messy thanks to Linda’s wandering hands; his eyes were glassy and his lips were flushed and swollen from kissing. He stared at himself for a long time, trying to comprehend the imperfect picture before him… until his ringing phone brought him out of his reverie.  
  
“Hello?” Kouyou said, finally managing to get the phone out of his pants pocket. With the swell of the music in the background and the boisterous conversation of people in the doorway it was hard to be sure, but he could have sworn he heard sirens on the other line.   
  
“Kouyou…” He knew that voice. A glance to the front of his phone confirmed it was Yuu, and Kouyou closed his eyes, almost afraid to ask the question he knew Yuu was waiting for. He heard a jumble of voices on the other line and he felt his stomach plummet even lower.   
  
“What the fuck did you do?” he asked slowly, clenching his eyes shut.   
  
“I was just trying to take Karen home, but then there was this-”   
  
“Yuu, you didn’t drive here.” Kouyou interrupted suddenly, his eyes snapping open violently.   
  
“Yeah, see, that’s the thing.” Yuu sounded suspiciously like a toddler who knew he’d just done something very, very wrong. “I sort of… borrowed your car.”   
  
Kouyou’s mind instantly flashed back to the empty umbrella stand. No.  _No._   ** _“_** _You wrecked my car?!”_  he yelled, and upon seeing a dozen surprised heads snap back to stare at him, he grabbed an anonymous cup off the counter and drank from it heavily to calm himself.   
  
“You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say-” their connection suddenly clicked off and Kouyou pulled the phone away from his ear, staring at it incredulously and resisting against the urge to throw it at the nearest wall in annoyance.  _Well,_  he thought dryly,  _I guess I don’t have to worry about Yuu being mad at me anymore._  For what he’d done, Kouyou was going to have a month full of ass-kissing coming his way.   
  
Without him realizing, the cup in his hands had somehow become empty, so he refilled it, the amber liquid swirling about alluringly. He glanced at his reflection in the mirror one last time before bringing the cup to his lips and drinking the contents in one long gulp. Perfection was going to have to take a night off. Refilling his cup, he made his way back to the chaos, and back to the dance floor.

Thoughts still racing from the night’s events, Kouyou pushed his way through the crowd, stumbling inside the living room where the furniture had been pushed up against the walls to accommodate the crowd of drunk, sweaty teenagers dancing. His eyes scanned the dimly-lit room, searching for a familiar face. Between flurries of long hair and swaying hips he spotted Linda, who, he was quick to notice, had had no difficulty replacing him in his absence with another guy.   
  
“What the hell are you doing?” he asked her, straining to be heard over the pulsing music as he pulled her out of another jock’s arms and into his own by her forearm. She blinked her glazed eyes, heavily rimmed with black eyeliner, up at him, registering his face.   
  
“ _Baby_ ,” she cooed, her voice watery from the alcohol, each syllable running into the next. “What took you so long?” She placed a freshly manicured hand around his neck and her previous partner, bored with the turn of events, sulked off in annoyance.   
  
“I was talking to Yuu. He just trashed my car **.”**  Kouyou responded, glancing over at her arm. He had the faint desire to remove it from his shoulder, but refrained himself from acting on it.   
  
“Really? That’s awesome,” Linda gushed loudly with a growing grin, obviously too trashed herself to recognize what he was saying. She began to say something else, but it was at that moment that Kouyou noticed something - or rather, someone - on the other side of the room. Kouyou’s eyes landed on the petite, almost feminine, frame of the other boy, and he found that he could not look away. With an almost morbid curiosity, he watched Takanori dance up against his partner - a partner who, Kouyou noticed uneasily, was male. He had known that Takanori was gay (and had often used it as ammunition to instigate several fights), but it was something else entirely to see the evidence in front of him. Fascinated, Kouyou stared as Takanori turned in his partner's hold just in time for his lips to be claimed in searing kiss, and Kouyou could have sworn he felt his own mouth burn just from watching them. His stomach churned, warmth flushed throughout him in the strangest way he couldn't comprehend, and he found it impossible to believe that just moments earlier he had been imaging this same scenario with… Rookie.   
  
“Kouyou, baby? Kouyou?” Linda’s insistent hand tugged on his shirt, breaking his focus. Dragging his eyes from the sight across the room quickly, he diverted his attention back to Linda, trying to calm his reeling mind. Satisfied that his eyes were now on her, she used the hand she had on his neck to bring his head down to hers. Body pressed flush against his own, she whispered in his ear, just loud enough to be heard over the song that was playing. “I’m bored. Why don’t we go upstairs and have a little fun? You know, like we used to.” Kouyou pulled away slightly, blinking down at her, but before he had time to say anything the music cut off and he heard the distressed cries of one of Linda’s friends from across the floor. Straightening, he tried to process the situation despite his alcohol-muddied brain.   
  
“God, what a freak.” Linda snapped, glaring at Takanori with cut eyes as he was cut short of an apology. Apparently something had happened to result in Takanori bumping into the girl, causing her to spill her beer on a shirt; the close-to-tears outburst laminating over itbeing far too expensive to have anything spilled on it, just as it was now, practically soaked down the front. Kouyou glanced down at his girlfriend, then back at the petite boy that cringed silently at the harsh mention that the shirt he ruined wasn’t even the girl’s own; it was her sister’s. Memories of the night he drove Takanori home flashed through his mind, burning him as he remembered the bubbles of laughter that made his stomach feel strange in the most oddest of ways.   
  
“Yeah…” he mumbled, noncommittally. Awkwardly, he watched a jock sling the petite teenager over his shoulder and carry him out of the room regardless of the demands that were hissed to be released as his hands pounded at the jock’s back, another guy Kouyou recognized from the football team following them out.   
  
“So? What do you say?” Linda asked, turning her attention back towards him and pouting her baby pink lips. He glanced at her briefly, before staring back at the door that the trio had disappeared through.   
  
“Sorry,” he mumbled dismissively, “I have to make a call.” He stepped away from her before exiting the room. He passed through the kitchen and began moving towards the door that led outside in quick strides. Standing in the threshold awkwardly, he watched the jock toss Takanori roughly to the ground, watching the smaller teen stumble and fall in the snow. Unable to gather the courage to move, he watched the conflict unfold, gut clenched. As Nathan, the football jock he recognized earlier, ground his heel into Takanori’s chest, it was then that he found himself lurching forward, rushing through the door and not bothering to shut it behind him, trudging through the frigid cold with a frantic, heavy weight settled in his chest that made his breath flash before his eyes in white, rampant puffs one after another. 

“Get off of him!”  Kouyou bellowed out into the crisp, wintry night, shoving hard at the jock’s shoulder with enough force to have him stumble to the side and nearly fall in the snow in a clumsy heap. 

“The fuck did you jus-“

“You heard me. I didn’t stutter.” Their glares heatedly clashed with the expectancy of Nathan’s idiot moving to jerk Kouyou out of socket for even touching him. Instead, Nathan blindly placed a hand to the chest of his lackey that moved forward with the aim to do exactly what Kouyou thought he would and jack him by the collar of his shirt without breaking their threatening stare-down after gathering himself up to stand on his feet; shoulders squared,  waiting to see who would hit the other first. “Get the fuck off of him.”

Nathan narrowed his eyes, and with one last fleeting glance in Takanori’s direction where the boy lay in the snow and watched with bated breath at the conflict that unfolded before him, he looked to Kouyou once more. “This isn’t over, Shima.” From where they stood, the sound of music could be heard kick-starting up again, and after a few beats of thick silence Nathan brushed past Kouyou without another word spoken and his group of two other football jocks re-entered the house behind them. Takanori, Kouyou noticed from the corner of his eye, began to move and he felt a strange sense of relief wash over him completely, regardless of Nathan’s words lingering amongst his thoughts. He was unharmed from what he could see. There wasn’t a bruise on his face in the least bit. However, the other boy struggled to stand with an arm cradling his stomach. It wasn’t a smart idea for Takanori to be walking around quite yet, let alone stand so quickly.

Rather than voicing his concerns that rattled amongst the walls of his thoughts, Kouyou simply sat down in the snow a few feet away from Takanori looking straight ahead, silently encouraging him to do the same.   
  
“Hey, Queer Eye,” he said quietly, his voice lacking the malice it normally should. Tucking his knees against his chest, Kouyou ran his fingers through his fringe, pushing them to the side stubbornly. He cast a quick glance at Takanori before looking away with a troubled sigh. “Nathan’s a fucking idiot.” he blurted out suddenly, for lack of anything else to say. As his mind caught up with his words, he quickly justified them. “Not that I’m looking out for you. I mean, we’re not friends or anything, but I saw what happened and I couldn't just stand there and watch you... It’s just true. That Nathan’s an idiot, I mean. I-” He cut himself short before he could continue his ramblings, let alone embarrass himself any further. For god’s sake, he didn’t know what to say.  
  
“Where  _are_  your friends?” Kouyou asked after a small beat's worth of silence, genuinely curious, while glancing over and meeting the dark eyes of the other boy that gazed at him with confusion, and something else he couldn’t decipher aside from incredulous. Such dark eyes he had. “You know what, never mind. I don’t really care.” He looked away again.

“I figured you wouldn’t.” It was the first reply he had gotten all night from Takanori, and it made his stomach sink for reasons even he couldn’t understand at how flat it was. He was too drunk for this deciphering-shit.

 “You remember a couple of days ago, when I gave you a ride home?” Kouyou cringed at the other memories that came along with this - including a particularly embarrassing encounter with Electric Six. He paused for a while, trying to humble himself into voicing what he needed to ask. He swallowed hard. “Care to return the favor?"  
  
“Yuu wrecked my car.” he explained, offering Takanori a small, rueful smile - the first genuine one he has given out all night. “Karen wanted to leave, and there was this bottle of Jack Daniel’s, and something about an umbrella stand…” Kouyou realized he wasn’t making much sense anymore and clenched his eyes shut, rubbing his temples as the first signs of a migraine began brewing in the back of his head before pressing a palm to his forehead. “Anyway, I’m sort of stranded. Plastered, too. Maybe.” he said helplessly, resting an arm across his knees and staring at Takanori. He met the other boy’s obsidian eyes, his own colored the dark, tumultuous grey of a stormy night sky. Why was he talking so much? Was it because he was drunk? Was it just to fill the silence? Head aching, Kouyou found that he couldn’t decide on an answer. Instead, for once, he was silent, waiting, studying the planes of Takanori's face. 

“Not maybe, you are. You're so fucking plastered off your ass, Shima.” Takanori finally repliedsaid after a few beats of awkward silence that settled between them with a small frown, and he shook his head with dry and forced chuckle; cynical. “You’re asking me, of all people, to give you a ride home. Not to mention you’re actually holding a conversation with me.  We never talk like this, so  there's undoubtedly something wrong with this picture.” He pushed himself off of the ground to stand to his feet slowly, but he winced and his hand quickly flew to rest at his side at the feeling of small pain that etched across his features. It was enough to make Kouyou reach to help balance – want to, at the least. It was the stern, pointed glare that spoke in volumes of not wanting his help that halted Kouyou’s intentions in its tracks, before turning his back to him after patting the palms of his hands against the back of his snow-cladded skinny jeans whilst walking off towards the side of the house; his hand still pressed to his side. After taking a few steps he stopped to look over his shoulder only to see that Kouyou still remained seated on the ground.

“What are you sitting around for?” Takanori expelled a long sigh with a roll of his eyes, “You wanted a ride home, right? Hurry up before I change my mind.” And he was off once more, not sparing Kouyou another glance as he trudged his way through the snow to get to the sidewalk and find the car that, unbeknownst to Kouyou, did not belong to him.

At Takanori’s questioning, Kouyou quickly shuffled to his feet, the streetlights spinning a little from the sudden movement. Tugging at the corners of his collar, he pulled it higher and ducked his head as he trudged behind the smaller male. His identity concealed in the shadows of the late night, he made careful to avoid making eye contact with the sparse crowd of wasted partiers willing to brave the December cold for a smoke. No matter how drunk he was, he at least had the common sense to know that it was not an everyday occurrence that captain of the varsity basketball team hitched a ride with the residential outcast, let alone take up for him as he had done just moments ago. Like colors and whites, he knew that they came from two very different groups that were definitely  _not_  supposed to mix in the laundry bin.   
  
As soon as he heard the locks click and give way, his hand was on the icy door handle, slipping inside the small car and out of sight. Resting his head against the back of the seat, Kouyou let out a silent sigh, his eyes drifting shut. He felt the faint stirrings of a headache beginning to brew due undoubtedly to the massive quantities of alcohol he had just consumed - and perhaps, even a little bit, to the sudden confusion that tormented him for many reasons. Why was he here, in Takanori’s car of all places, on a Friday night? And why, most importantly of all, did he feel relaxed for the first time all evening, even if he was halfheartedly giving a dismissive wave to the wondering of what he wanted to listen to that was, more or less, already on the horizon of a small argument.

“I asked you a question!”

“Just drive already, would you?”  
  
It was because Takanori was the school’s fuck up, he found himself thinking. He didn’t have to try and impress him; he didn’t have to be the charming, successful, athletic Kouyou he was around his peers, because even drunk, unguarded Kouyou was better than who he was currently hitching a ride with. He scowled suddenly in confusion.

Was that really what it was?

He was broken out of his reverie as a cascade of CDs scattered across his lap, some hitting the floorboard with a quiet clatter.

“Fine, then. Just pick something. The radio isn’t anything I listen to often, anyway.” Takanori grumbled with a soft crinkle of his nose. Kouyou glanced up, startled, before beginning to sift through them aimlessly after regarding the other boy with a light glare, knowing he had knocked over the CDs on purpose. He grabbed a loose one without bothering to check the words that were scribbled carelessly across its surface and fed it to the stereo, adjusting the volume so it was loud enough to eat up the awkward silence they shared, but not so loud as to intensify the raging headache that was beginning to pulse through his skull. Kouyou allowed his mind to wander again, this time about less substantial things. A random weight had begun to burden his chest, and he gripped the front of his shirt gently, as if seeking it out. Rookie, the umbrella stand, Yuu, his car, the police, Takanori; the kiss; Nathan; snow – red. His thoughts ran together in a myriad of colors, ghosting across his consciousness much like the city lights streaming past the car window.   
  
He glanced over at Takanori with a single eyebrow raised when he noticed the teen started to turn into the parking lot of a roadside gas station, killing the engine once he’d steered into an empty space. Rather than question him, however, Kouyou found his eyes following him as he leaned across the console after unfastening his seat belt, rummaging around in the backseat for something. Kouyou’s grey hues swept across the small expanse of skin that had become exposed as Takanori searched, his shirt slipping forward gradually. And he stared - watched  the hem of Takanori’s shirt, took in the the delicate curve of his back with exposed skin that looked as if it would be soft to the touch if he reached to trace his fingertips over it, the waistband of his pants… Heat filled Kouyou’s face. 

“I found it!” Came Takanori’s rejoice for finding an oversized jacket and wallet in the backseat.  
  
“I think I'm gonna be sick.” Kouyou muttered to himself as he leaned forward and tucked his head between his knees, unable to meet Takanori’s gaze as the boy whipped back around, jacket and wallet in hand. It wasn’t until he had stepped out of the car that Kouyou  was able to slowly raise his head and face his pale reflection in the glass of the windshield. “What the  _fuck_  was that?” he hissed, his reflection hissing right back at him. He sat in silence as he waited for Takanori to return, staring out the window stubbornly. When Takanori finally stepped back into the car several minutes later, Kouyou noticed he was gripping a plastic bag. He glanced at it curiously, watching as Takanori withdrew Tylenol and a bottle of water from its depths before offering them both to him.

“I thought you might need it. I saw you rubbing at your temples back at Heather’s, so I assumed you were getting a headache.” Takanori softly shrugged his shoulders as he watched Kouyou, with small hesitance, take the offered items from his hold. Grey eyes shifted, glancing hesitantly into the darker ones across from him. Takanori had bought this… for him? He felt the weight on his chest –the same one that bothered him just a moment ago – lift with suddenness.   
  
“What are you? My mother?” Kouyou quipped, and in response Takanori rolled his eyes as hard as he could.

“I hope you fucking choke while swallowing those little shits down, you ungrateful-”

“You don’t mean that.” Regardless, Kouyou found himself uncapping the aspirin bottle and shaking two of the brightly colored pills into his palm, washing them down with a swig of the water and a quirk of a small, crooked smile grace his lips as he glanced over at Takanori whom had eyed him once, twice before snorting a mumble that sounded pretty damn close to a murmur of ‘ _whatever helps you sleep at night_ ’ while trying his best to repress a crooked smirk of his very own. He failed miserably.

The rest of the trip was made in silence, save for the occasional “turn here” and the lulling tones of the CD which Kouyou discovered he liked, despite the fact that he had never heard the band before. As the car slowed to a stop in front of his house, the tip of Takaknori’s tongue caught his attention as it swept across his lower lip absently, his teeth flashing as they took the metal lip ring between themselves. “Did it hurt?” Kouyou blurted out suddenly, surprising even himself. “When you got your lip pierced?” It seemed that he wasn’t the only one surprised by his own inquiry, but Takanori took it all in stride, parking his car and shrugging his shoulders, passing his fingers through dark locks that were stained at the front with a color that now looked similar to a fading baby pink.

“Not really. It felt more like a…” he paused, once more giving a caress to his lip ring with the tip of his tongue and shifting in his seat, “really quick sting, and a really nice rush.”

“So you like getting pierced? For the rush?” Kouyou arched a single eyebrow as his head lulled back to rest on the headrest, and at that Takanori chuckled quietly with a light shake of his head, lowering his gaze just for a moment to shy away from the question and passing his fingers through his hair. In that moment, Kouyou caught himself smiling a bit. So it was possible to wring a smile out Takanori that wasn't cynical or mocking after all. 

"Maybe? Something like that, I guess? Why?" He tucked a lock behind his right ear, ultimately exposing the piercings that lined it and entertained Kouyou’s glassy yet intrigued gaze. “I really wanted this one.” Takanori smirked softly and gave a gentle tap to his earlobe, “and these, too.”

"Just curious. Not judging." Strangely enough, but Kouyou ignored that train of thought with ease. "Is that all you have? Those piercings. Just those?"

Takanori hummed quietly. "No. Well..." his eyebrows furrowed as he trailed off. A look of contemplation settled over his features before an unreadable expression replaced it that Koutou couldn't look away from as their gazes rested on each other before his voice lowered into a comfortable, husky lull far better than the music that Kouyou had somewhat tuned out. "Maybe I'll tell you some other time when you're drunk and easier to tolerate. Maybe."  
  
They lapsed into silence once more, the car humming quietly beneath them and their gazes lingering, watching. Kouyou could feel himself stalling to leave. He had questions waiting to be voiced building up on the tip of his tongue, he was warm, comfortable, and the little bubble he hadn't realized build around them was... nice. He wasn’t ready quite yet to face the silent, intimidating house that would greet him when he entered, the-

“Good night, Shima. And…thanks. For earlier.”

As Takanori’s softer tone filled his ears, Kouyou turned his head and stared down at his hands that rested in his lap. He couldn’t bring himself to say anything back, or even to thank Takanori for giving him a ride home, let alone accept the gratitude that made his chest feel a bit heavy at the memory. Instead, he swung open the passenger door slowly and his eyes locked on the plastic-wrapped carton of cigarettes that had slipped partially out of the grocery sack now resting on the floorboards when he moved. “You really-” he said, his gaze shifting from the cigarettes to Takanori that looked back at him with raised eyebrows, one foot already out of the car, “You really shouldn’t smoke those.” he finished, before stepping out of the car,

“Tsc,” Takanori smirked lightly. “What are you? My mother?”  The familiarity of response was laughable – it actually made Kouyou chuckle deeply as he paused, holding the other boy’s gaze for a little longer before finally clicking the door shut behind him.   
  
Once out in the frigid night air, he made his way quickly up the long driveway that led to the Takashima estate. As he trudged forward, he wondered sluggishly if Takanori was still behind him. Was he still sitting in his car, watching him? He couldn’t bring himself to turn around and look. Instead, he gripped the iron railings of the eight-foot fence that barred the rest of the driveway from his entrance and leaned forward to gently rest his heated forehead against the cool iron for a brief moment. A part of him wanted Takanori to still be there if he looked back, and the thought made him stutter and his head feel too light.

Too tired to deal with the parental interrogations he knew would come if he buzzed to have it opened (particularly interrogations about why, exactly, he had not bothered to open the garage that night to return his less than one-year-old car into it) he scaled the gate, jumping to the other side and landing on shaking legs. He paused for a second, bit his lower lip, and chanced a glance slightly over his shoulder, not sure exactly what it would mean if Takanori’s car was still stalling in the street, or the small warmth that seeped into his chest the more he thought about it.   
  
Without wasting another moment he started on the long trek up the rest of the driveway, almost making it inside the house before hearing a faint rustling in the perfectly-trimmed azalea bushes. He froze. Before he had time to do anything, he felt a hand clamp over his mouth to muffle his startled shouts and another twist his arm roughly behind his back, rendering him motionless. He struggled, but his attacker overpowered him almost easily - he barely even managed to squirm beneath their grip. He paused for a second, trying to figure out a better plan of attack. And that was when he felt them brush against his back: breasts.

He tensed. The only girl he knew who possessed the brute force necessary to overpower him was…   
  
“Hey, little brother.” 

…his sister.

He felt the grip on him relax and he shoved her off of him, whipping around quickly to face her. She flashed him a rather charmingly roguish smile that was equally similar to his own, hiking her duffel bag up higher on her shoulder with a toss of a long, curled lock over her shoulder.   
  
“Christ, you nearly gave me a fucking heart attack.” Kouyou breathed, pressing a hand to his chest.   
  
“Ooh,  _language._ ” Melissa reprimanded him lightly. “Then again,” she took a step forward and sniffed his shirt, her nose crinkling in repulsion, “it looks like language is the least of your problems. You smell like a walking keg.”   
  
“And you smell like a dyke.” They glared at each other in the darkness for a beat, before grinning widely at the same time. Kouyou scooped his sister up in a tight hug and she returned it with bone-crushing strength with arms that looked as if she wasn’t capable of anything related to said strength. “Fuck, not so tight!” he barked with a wheeze.   
  
“Sorry! I forgot you were always the runt of the family.” she teased him with a smirk, pressing a fleeting series of kisses to his cheek.  
  
He rolled his eyes and groaned helplessly, accepting the shower of love from his older sibling. “What are you even doing here? It’s been what… three years? Four? Where are you living now?”   
  
“San Francisco, baby.” she said with an audible fondness. “Where it’s always sunny with absolutely nothing to remind me of this fucking hellhole.” she sighed blissfully.   
  
Kouyou eyed her critically. “And if ‘sunny San Fran’ is as perfect as you say, then why the hell are you standing here right now?”   
  
Melissa pursed her lips. “Is it not enough for me to say that I just wanted to see my darling little brother?” she demanded, pouting. All in which Kouyou snorted at with a rather incredulous look. Nonetheless, she shot him a glare and he quieted to avoid her wrath. “Okay, so San Fran isn’t exactly perfect. It happens to be pretty expensive, to be honest. And I happen to be pretty damn broke.”   
  
A light bulb clicked on in Kouyou’s head with a sudden clarity. “So you came to beg for money.” Melissa, however, had already moved past him and was studying the house critically, looking for entry.   
  
“More like steal it. I’ll be in and out before dad even notices I’m here. So, how do you normally break in after your late night conquests?”   
  
“It’s called a house key, dipshit.” he laughed, shrugging past her and fishing a spare key out of his back pocket. He slid it into the lock and gave it a few turns, the door eventually swinging open to grant them entry. Kouyou walked inside with his older sister trailing in right behind him before shutting the door quietly. It wouldn’t have really mattered, anyway. The house was so large that he doubted the slam of a door would even carry to his parent’s bedroom - or that they would ever be concerned enough to reprimand him for it.   
  
“First door on the-” he began, but his sister was already halfway up the staircase, tongue peeking out from the corner of her lips and a small mischievous grin etched across her face. “…Left.” He finished under his breath with a roll his eyes, taking the stairs two at a time to keep up with her.   
  
“I didn’t get amnesia in California, you know.” she said over her shoulder, carrying her bulging duffel bag as if it weighed nothing. “I remember where they keep the cash in this house.”  
  
Kouyou moved past her, heading further down the hall towards his room as she ducked into the office. He pulled his shirt over his head after shrugging out of his jacket and unbuckled his belt, allowing his jeans to fall into a puddle around his ankles. Stepping out of them, he sat down in front of his sleeping computer wearing only his boxers, the light of the monitor flooding through the room as he turned on the CPU.   
  
“Alright, little brother, I’m gonna head out now.” He glanced over his shoulder and saw his sister zipping up her now even fuller duffel with a look of smug satisfaction evident on her face.   
  
“And waste that hard-earned cash on a hotel room for the night? Look, just sleep in here. You can be on a bus to California by tomorrow morning, I promise.” As if having been waiting for an initiation, Melissa kicked the door shut behind her and flopped out on his bed with a cat-like grin and an equally cat-like, momentary stretch.   
  
“So you’re sleeping on the floor, right?” she asked. He knew better than to try arguing with her. There would only be bruises to show for it by tomorrow morning.   
  
“Yeah, yeah, whatever. I don't care. The bed’s all yours.” he said absent-mindedly, scrolling through his inbox which he found, unfortunately, to be empty. He sighed softly and moved to click out of the browser, accidentally opening the conversation between himself and Rookie in the process. Despite himself, his eyes swept across their first tentative words to each other, reading them with a surprising hunger. Melissa prepared for bed while chatting idly behind him, but he heard nothing; just Rookie’s words in his head, comforting and reassuring and coaxing a small, soft smile to slowly spread across Kouyou’s lips.   
  
“E-mailing your girlfriend?” Melissa’s voice was in his ear suddenly and he jumped in startle, hurriedly clicking out of the window. “Woah! Easy there, tiger!” she said as he shut the computer off quickly. “Unless you got something to hide?”   
  
“It’s not like that.” he said all too quickly, irritated, as he stood up and brushed past his sister to tug the comforter off his bed and snag a few pillows to make his makeshift bed for the night on the floor.   
  
“Oh, really? Your boyfriend, then?” Melissa joked with a suggestive shrug of her eyebrows, plopping down with her legs crossing in bed while pulling her long locks into a messy bun atop of her head. It was at this that Kouyou tensed instinctively.   
  
“Shut up!” he snapped, “Not everyone in this family is a fag hag like you!” He glanced over at her with narrowed eyes, only to instantly regret his words, his eyes softening right under her tensed gaze. Though they constantly teased each other, when it came to the Takashima tolerance of homosexuality - aka none - he was treading into sensitive waters and he knew it. It was an understatement to say that their father had been less than thrilled to find out that his firstborn was macking on other girls in the locker room rather than beating them on the tennis court. It was only fair that she left and didn't dare to look back; to ride herself of what ties she had in the form of giving up her birth name given to her from a man she hadn't called father in four years. She wanted a clean slate, a fresh start, and Kouyou respected that.  
  
“It’s called being bisexual,”she said tightly, “And it’s just a label.”   
  
“Forget I said anything.” Kouyou apologized in a quiet whisper after a moment’s pause of silence, noting the look in his sister’s eye guiltily. He settled back onto the floor, propping his head up on one of the pillows he managed to snag before Melissa had settled in. A long time passed and neither of them spoke, and Kouyou was certain that she had probably fallen asleep by the time he finally gathered the courage to ask the question that had been plaguing him.   
  
“Mel?” he questioned quietly, falling into his habit of using the tone he's used with her for as long as he could remember while staring up at the pale white ceiling of his bedroom - a tone that sounded lost and too helpless to his own ears. To his surprise, there was actual moist warmth gradually whelming in his eyes.   
  
“Mm?” came the sluggish hum from above him after a careful beat of silence.   
  
“How did you…” Kouyou swallowed hard. His throat was so tight that he could barely get the words he needed to get out. “How did you realize that you liked girls?” A beat passed before he heard Melissa shifting slowly in bed, turning on her side to face him in the darkness.   
  
“It’s not any different from liking guys, really.” she said hesitantly, gently biting her lip in small thought. “You just… you get this feeling every time you see that person.” She gained confidence as she continued, her voice taking on a quiet, wistful sound. “You constantly seek them out when you’re in a crowd, and you feel lonely when you aren’t with them. You notice things about them too - little things; things that you normally wouldn’t pay attention to, but when they’re about that person, they’re  _everything_. Like the way their eyes crinkle up at the ends when they smile or laugh, the way their hair moves when they walk down the hall; the curve of their back when they turn, the way your insides feels odd – warm – just from their laughter alone. Just from being near them. And then you know.”   
  
The siblings fell into silence once more, and soon Melissa’s breathing slowed, evening out into the slow, rhythmic pattern of sleep. In the silence of the night amongst the four walls of his bedroom, Kouyou felt warm tears slip down his face and he cried silently in the dark.

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"You're on. And Just so you know," Miyavi smirked smugly. "I only take cash, in full and upfront."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Revamping these chapters was probably the best thing I could have possibly decided on. 
> 
> I can't think y'all enough for the encouragement, warm welcome, kudos, and even to see those that have been with me for this from the very beginning! I'm getting around to responding to the reviews now as we speak, but I wanted I just wanted to thank you all so very, very, much from the bottom of my heart ( ; ; )

**Good Morning~!**  
From:  Fadeless_Beauty@hotmail.com  
To: newyorkminute@live.com  
_Saturday, December 6, 2013 3:54 AM_

  
Of course! I’m always bright eyed for my lectures. I don’t know about now, though. I’d be shit out of luck if we had school today. Pretty sure I wouldn’t even show up to school, to be honest.  
  
Well duh, dipshit, I could have told you that. I kid, I kid. Actually, it’s sort of funny – I was thinking the same thing earlier today. Er- well, yesterday since it’s… already Saturday. (Amazing. Where did the day go?) But, don’t worry. You’re not the only one that’s just getting this assignment. I wonder the same thing. There’s always a possibility, hmm?  
  
Work, huh? I think something you love to do shouldn’t be ‘work’, but I suppose people lose sight of that. I’m not really cut out to participate in sports. I like watching, but participating is an n-o. It’s whatever, though. Sports are a good thing to do if you’re really passionate about it. I bet you’re one of those types of people that are really passionate about it, mm? I admire you. You have so many things that you must be really good at! Why haven't you painted in two years? Do you not enjoy it anymore?  
  
Hidden talents, my ass. I’m not that talented - trust me lol. I like to write and draw, and I waste my life on photography. I'm pinning after a good, expensive camera while knowing I won’t be able to afford one anytime soon. Lame, right? I must sound really boring. No one really seems interested in photography anymore and I don’t see much people in class take it that seriously, but I love it. idfk being brutally honest is a ‘talent’, I guess? How about that? I paint and play the piano, too. Watch your fucking mouth, I used to hang around those 'bougie' ballet studios when I was little! Got good memories around there. My aunt used to teach ballet, and on days I needed to be babysat she'd take me with her to her classes.  
  
So you were there, huh? Of course. It’s pretty much impossible to  _not_  know about it when the whole fucking school talks about it all day. I wouldn’t really call it ‘stupid’. It was pretty risky, but it got the school a winning game of the season, and I have to admit that that’s all that really matters.   
  
Actually, I thought I was the only one that caught his expression after the game since everyone was too busy yelling with joy over the win. But, yeah. Takashima is a jerk no matter how you dice it, hands down (sorry if you happen to be friends with the guy) but… I think calling him a jerk because he earned the school a win doesn’t really classify him as being, well, a jerk. Shiroyama should be a good teammate, friend, and congratulate Takashima on a job well done. At the end of the day, it was their teamwork that got them the points needed as a whole, right?  
  
Any friend who can’t be happy for you just isn’t that good of a friend is the way I see it.   
  
…Are you fucking me? Jesus Christ, you really are humorous. I needed that laugh, but I don’t think so. It would be a cold day in hell before I ever fall for him. He has enough girls flocking after him and waiting until that chick (sorry, I don’t really bother myself with trying to remember his girlfriend’s name. She really grates on my nerves) he’s dating finally falls from her high horse to replace her, so why add a guy in the waiting? Besides, he doesn’t swing that way the last time I’ve checked.  
  
I don’t know if you can really call Takashima’s girlfriend his, well, girlfriend, though. She surely doesn’t act like one, unless Shima’s being praised for winning a game, but ditches him when he doesn’t? It’s odd… I’m not worrying about it or anything because it’s none of my business, but… dare I say it, he deserves better.  
  
This is way longer than I thought. I guess you can say I’m making up for lost time I haven’t spoken to you. I've got so much to share, I wanted to indulge as much as I could. But I missed talking to you, so…yeah. Okay! It’s your turn to ask a question. Ask away. Talk to you soon and enjoy the weekend. Don’t get into too much trouble? And don’t do anything I wouldn’t do **/** _wink wink, nudge nudge, bumps elbows_  
  
  
Yours truly,  
**Rookie  
**

**►►**  
  
  
Kouyou awoke to the sound of his cell phone humming impatiently in his ear. He groaned a little, fishing beneath his pillow blindly with a groggy groan and grasping at it clumsily so he could take a peek at the small library of text messages he had begun to collect from Yuu that morning alone – all of them asking him, none too nicely, to get over to the gym. Kouyou sighed, setting the phone beside him and sitting up with a yawn and shying away from the stream of sunlight spilling in from his window. There was a mild case of a hangover brewing and he could feel it in the weight of regret putting unnecessary pressure his eye sockets. Sighing deeply, he ran a hand across his jaw groggily and froze. On his cheeks, he could still feel the paper thin ribbons of salt where his tears had fallen.   
  
With a sudden swell of violence that whelmed heatedly within him the more he brewed over his recalled memory of last night, he threw back the covers on his makeshift bed and sent his phone hurling across the room and into the adjacent wall. Sensitive ears be damned. He cursed, kneading the muscles in the back of his neck as he carefully stood to his feet. It wasn’t until then that he noticed that his bed was empty, and in his sister’s place laid only a scrap of paper she had hurriedly torn from one of his notebooks on her way out. Curiously, he moved over to the bed and picked it up, scanning its surface with half-lidded eyes. At first, it seemed as if all she had written on it was her email address, but just as he was going to set it down, Kouyou noticed that on the back, in his sister’s small, curly letters, she had simply written two words. 

  
“ _Be yourself_.”   
  
**►►**  
  
“Ten! That one’s  _definitely_  a ten.” Yuu tugged on his arm impatiently like a toddler in a candy store, eagerly eyeing up the line of women filtering out of the aerobics studio across the gym floor. Kouyou skeptically followed his eyes, seeking out the redhead in question.   
  
“Seven.” he decided upon drily, lying back on the bench once more. He grasped at the steel barbell above his head, taking a few steadying breaths as he lifted it from the rack.   
  
“What the hell?” Yuu barked, horrified. “Did you  _see_  her ass? Anyone who wouldn’t want to tap that is – is – fuck, they’ve gotta be a total homo!”   
  
“Shit!” Kouyou yelped as the bar came crashing down on his chest, winding him. After a beat, a startled Yuu scrambled to help him, and between the two of them, they managed to lift the bar up high enough for Kouyou to roll out beneath it. He lay on the gym floor for a minute, seeing stars dance across his vision as he tried to catch his breath.   
  
“You were supposed to be spotting me.” he wheezed, shooting Yuu a resentful glare. He ran his hand along his chest where the bar had hit, wondering if it would bruise.   
  
“Are you kidding me? Clark Kent couldn’t have spotted you on that!” Even Yuu was breathing hard from the effort of lifting the bar and he moved to the ends, trying to count the impressive rows of twenty pound weights stacked on each end. “How much are you even trying to lift?”   
  
Feeling defensive, Kouyou stood, shoving Yuu away from the bar and effectively messing up his count. “The year’s halfway over,” he said, grabbing a pair of free weights instead and starting on reps. “I need to step it up.”   
  
“You’re already benching more than anyone on the team!” Yuu quipped, unable to let it go.   
  
“Why are you so intent on checking out all these chicks, anyway?” Kouyou said suddenly, shamelessly taking advantage of Yuu’s low attention span. “Is Karen not doing it for you anymore?” Sure enough, the darker haired teen held true to his ADD and the old conversation was all but forgotten.   
  
“Tch, Karen dumped me the second she heard sirens last night.” Yuu said woefully.   
  
“I don’t blame her.” Visions of his totaled car resurfaced in Kouyou’s mind. Three police cars and a tow truck were needed to extricate it from its mangled heap in the middle of east SoHo. At the look on Kouyou’s face, Yuu rubbed the back of his neck, offering him a sheepish smile.   
  
“Hey, I’m really sorry about that. My dad dropped by the repair shop this morning. He’s paying for everything.”   
  
“You’re just lucky your parents have all those rich-ass legal connections. 100 hours community service is a small price to pay for your freedom.” It was true. With Yuu’s record, he should have, at the very least, had his driver’s license suspended. But with his dad being the face of one of New York’s most prestigious law firms, all it had taken was a few called-in favors to get the sentence cut down to merely cleaning up trash in the city.   
  
“Yeah, lucky me. I get to spend the next six months with the pedophiles and crack whores.”   
  
“You’ll fit right in perfectly.” Kouyou said, smiling cheekily with a teasing wink. Yuu swung a fist at him in annoyance and they both collapsed into laughter with Yuu hugging an arm tightly around Kouyou’s neck as he sprawled himself partly atop of him.   
  
By the time Kouyou got home from training his dad was still in the family office just like he had left him that morning, talking heatedly into the cell phone held in place at his ear. The cool wintry air pulled the front door shut behind him with a slam and Kouyou jumped a little in surprise, feeling his father’s icy gaze snap towards him with a chilling intensity. The older man walked to the double doors of the office and, shooting his son one last assessing look, loudlt snapped them shut.   
  
“Yeah... love you too, dad.” Kouyou muttered gruffly, kicking at the edges of the Persian rug in the foyer. Tucking his gym bag against his side, he began to climb the stairs with shaking legs. Yuu had left the gym early to go meet with his community service officer, but Kouyou had stayed behind to get in a few more hours of training. As he reached the top, he felt his head spin a little, disorienting him. He pressed a hand to his forehead and briefly closed his eyes, waiting for it to pass. Had he eaten anything today? He couldn’t remember, but he made a mental note to grab something to eat later.   
  
When he entered his bedroom, he noticed that his bed had been freshly made. He wondered a little wryly to himself what the maid must have been thinking as she scooped up the blankets and pillows from the floor where he’d slept last night. Dumping his duffel bag in the corner, he kicked off his gym shoes and made his way over to the desktop. He laughed a little to himself, thinking about the hundreds of Twitter messages Yuu had probably already sent, bitching about crack whores with trash bags.   
  
Although he was tempted to check them all, he, instead, found himself punching in the password to his e-mail account. To see if he’d gotten anything from NYU, he told himself. Sure enough there was a confirmation e-mail in his box, thanking him for submitting his application for the 2014 school year. There was also, he noticed with a secret pleasure, a new message from Rookie. The length of it made him strangely anxious, and he smiled as he began to read; a bubble of brief, rich laughter seeping from his lips and a blush coloring the tips of his ears.

 

 **Socially Awkward Hippos ftw**    
From: [newyorkminute@live.com](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=mailto%3Anewyorkminute%40live.com&t=MWU2YTgyMWYwYTkwMzI4NTAzMDE1YTZjMjI2NzE2MTRjMzk0MWY0Myw1U1lIdDZGZA%3D%3D&b=t%3Az1jlnJPC-wfvRAGhAPUqjg&p=http%3A%2F%2Furuhaxrukifanfics.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F102246257136%2Ftitle-only-you-pairing-uruki-uruha-x-ruki-and&m=1)   
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_Saturday, December 6, 2013 5:18 PM_    
  
Haha, how can you admire me when you don’t even know me? What if I am a socially awkward, morbidly obese guy who possesses the coordination of a drunk hippo? You shouldn’t get a guy’s hopes up like that, you know!   
  
Ahh, no hope for sports in your future? So you’ve basically just admitted to me that you’re some scrawny, little runt. Don’t worry. I’m sure it works for you. But who knows? Maybe one day I could teach you a thing or two. Unless you'd rather... idk, stick around in your bougie ballet studios. They're bougie as fuck, don't tell me otherwise. I'm just a little surprised. Do you dance it? Or have you? This isn't my new question, by the way. I'm just really curious. Ah, about painting... It's complicated. Hold that thought? I'll tell you eventually. Just not right now.  
  
I don’t think you’re boring at all! I would love to see some of your art and photography one day. I think it’s really great that you have so much that you’re passionate about. “Not that talented”, my ass. I bet you’re great at what you do. Just reading you talk about it I can tell that it means a lot to you. It’s really inspiring -  _you’re_  really inspiring, Rookie.   
  
Brutally honest, huh? I think I might be a little scared to meet you, now. Maybe when we do meet, I can help pitch in on that really good camera you want if you let me. If you want to see me after this is over, I mean. I can’t even imagine what you would say about me. I don’t exactly live the most honest of lives. Sometimes it’s just easier to be who everyone wants me to be than to tell them the truth, you know? Then again, I’m not even sure that I know what the truth is anymore. It’s hard to know when I’m not honest with myself most of the time, either. I think that’s why I really like talking to you. I mean, we’ve only known each other for what, a week? But I feel like in that week, you’ve been the realest person I’ve ever met in a long time. You seem to be someone that's not afraid to be who you are, and I really…really admire that about you. (I know, I know. I’m a drunk hippo.)   
  
Wow, you sure had a lot to say about Shima. I know you’re “not worrying about it, or anything”, but somehow… I think you’re worrying about it. But I’m curious - if you think he’s such a big jerk, why do you think that he deserves better than Linda Brandon? I mean, she’s a total flake, yeah, but then again… isn’t he? Sorry, it’s just that I’ve known Shima for a really long time and I guess I just can’t see what everyone else sees in him.   
  
Oh God, nothing you wouldn’t do? I have a feeling that I would eliminate a lot more trouble if I tried to avoid doing the things that you  _would_ , Rookie _._ Lol I’m (sort of?) kidding. I’m sure you are always the epitome of the perfect gentleman. After all, you wouldn’t want to disappoint those teachers you seem to put so much effort into listening to.   
  
Okay, new question. Tell me one of your secrets. I want to know something about you that you wouldn’t tell anyone else.  
  
Can’t wait to hear back from you again. 

P.S: I missed you too, little shrimp. A lot.  
  
**ÆTIUS**

►►

“Kouyou, where the fuck are you? Tanaka is gonna kill us if we miss morning practice!”   
  
Kouyou was standing outside his house, shivering in the December cold. He furrowed his brows in surprise at Yuu’s voice coming through the opposite end of his phone.“Where am I? **”**  he snapped, shifting his weight from foot to foot impatiently. “Where are  _you?_  I’m freezing my balls off right now.” There was a beat of silence.   
  
“What do you mean you’re freezing your balls off? Aren’t you coming to pick me up?”   
  
“With what?” Kouyou asked in surprise, eyebrows raising sharply. “The piece of scrap metal that used to be my car?”   
  
“I don’t know! Didn’t your dad get you a rental to drive while it’s getting fixed or something?”  
  
“Yuu, he’s so pissed off about the Porsche. There’s no way in hell he’s spending a cent on me until I come home with some type of basketball contract.”   
  
“So, wait…” Yuu said slowly from the other end of the line. “If your car is totaled and mine’s still in the shop, who the hell is taking us to school?”   
  
“Karen?” Kouyou suggested hopefully.   
  
“There’s no way in hell, man. She’s not even speaking to me.” Yuu brightened suddenly. “Linda?”   
  
“Is in L.A. looking for dresses for the winter formal dance. She won’t be back until tomorrow afternoon.” There was a long moment of silence as the realization both dawned on them. “We’re gonna have to-”   
  
“Don’t you dare!” Yuu growled.   
  
“-take the bus.”   
  
Fifteen minutes later, Yuu and Kouyou were standing on the icy streets of New York, looking incredibly out of place as they waited beneath the bus stop sign. Of the few others waiting with them, at least half were in jeans or sweatpants and Yuu, wearing what Kouyou had a sneaking suspicion was Dolce & Gabanna, stuck out sorely.   
  
“This is fucking ridiculous.” Yuu hissed at Kouyou, glancing at the other civilians distrustfully. “They’re probably going to try and mug us.”   
  
“Shut up. It’s the city bus, not a prison shuttle.”   
  
“Might as well be.” Yuu grumbled, putting a protective hand over the pocket of his jacket he kept his wallet in for added security. The bus rounded the corner and Kouyou grabbed his bag from the ground, fishing through one of its pockets for some spare change. “What are you doing?” Yuu asked curiously.   
  
“You have to pay, dumbass.”   
  
“You have to pay to ride this piece of shit?! **”**  Yuu all but yelled, attracting the attention of a good fifty percent of the other passengers. Kouyou elbowed him roughly, stepping on board and dumping enough money in the collection bin for the two of them. “ ** _I hate my life_.** ” Yuu lamented, dramatically sidestepping gum wrappers and sticky-fingered children.   
  
“You’re such a-” Kouyou began, but stopped short when, after scanning the rows of seats, he noticed a very familiar face. “Takanori.” he said, startled. Did he really sound a bit breathy as he suspected in his surprise?  
  
“What?” Yuu asked. This was obviously not the insult he had expected. He followed his best friend’s gaze and noticed the outcast sitting near the back of the bus, chewing on a stick of gum and fiddling with his phone. “Oh fucking hell. Could this day get any worse?”   
  
“Shut up!” Kouyou snapped quickly as he threw a glare over his shoulder at Yuu, before he could even stop himself. It took Yuu a good minute to realize what he had just said. The bus started up again on its route and Kouyou grabbed onto one of the steel bars to steady himself. Through all this, however, his eyes remained on the petite teen sitting across from him, memories of Friday night flooding his mind despite his will as warmth tried to accumulate in the pit of his stomach.   
  
“What did you say? Did you just tell me to shut up?” Yuu demanded, scrambling to stay upright as the bus turned a sharp corner. “What the  _fuck_? Don’t tell me you’re defending that freak now!”   
  
Oh, if only Yuu knew.

Startled, Kouyou turned to face him. “What? No, of course not! You’re just– You’re just being a drama queen, okay?”   
  
Yuu snorted. “I don’t think I’m the one you should be calling a _queen_.” he said, deliberately loud enough for Takanori to hear.   
  
“Hey, just let it go already. Alright? Knock it off.” Yuu gave him a look as Kouyou gave him a brief yet rough nudge, but Kouyou ignored it, turning and facing the front of the bus once more as they waited for their stop. For some reason, Kouyou just couldn’t stomach a fight today with his once-rival. The bus shuddered to a halt a few blocks away from the school and Kouyou hurried to get off first, Yuu trailing behind him like a lost puppy, before Takanori had enough time to follow. Walking briskly, he didn’t slow his pace down until they were at the front entrance of the school, blaming the cold for his erratic behavior instead of the odd flutter in his stomach that didn’t cease until he was a satisfying distance and out of eyesight from a certain outcast.   
  
After listening to Yuu detail a surprisingly thrilling epic adventure-version of their morning to an expectant Coach Tanaka, Kouyou made his way out of the gym, grabbing the books for his homeroom class from his locker just as the warning bell rang. He glanced across the hall and found Takanori and his group of friends goofing off, relishing in the last few minutes before classes officially started for the day. Glancing around awkwardly, he checked to see if anyone he knew was lingering nearby. Most of his friends had homeroom upstairs and most all of the guys from basketball would still be in the locker room, changing after morning practice. Not seeing anyone he recognized, he decided to take the risk, jogging over to the dysfunctional group.   
  
“Hey,” he greeted, a little breathless from his nerves, watching as the rather wide smile that once decorated Takanori’s lips fell slowly when noticing him, and he looked awkwardly between him and Takanori’s friends. They were an interesting group – definitely not the type he would typically be caught dead with, but interesting nonetheless.

“Hey?” Takanori parroted with a soft furrow of his eyebrows after a beat of confused, awkward silence, and he narrowed his eyes suspiciously at the taller teen, clearly wondering just what was he up to. It wasn’t every day that you saw Kouyou Takashima himself approach a group of outcasts just to say ‘hello’, especially _him_. Friday night aside, it just wasn’t…normal. It was evident that he wasn’t in the mood to be harassed this morning, and he opened his mouth to voice such thoughts. "Look, Shima, if you're here to start shit, I'm not in the m-"

Kouyou lightly shook his head and raised a hand to halt Takanori from speaking any further after taking the time to glance towards the stairwell to ensure one last time that no one he knew was hanging around.

 “I just wanted to apologize about this morning. Yuu didn't..." To say Yuu didn't mean it would be something they both knew would be a lie, and the last thing he wanted to do was upset Takanori further and, in the end, start something he actually didn't have the heart to do today. Instead, he swallowed the rest of his response and opted to try again. "That's all I wanted to say.” He told Takanori, the awkwardness practically palpable. He could feel all of Takanori’s friends staring at him and he shuffled nervously beneath the weight of their gazes. “And, uh, thanks.” he rubbed the nap of his neck with a nervously firm squeeze. “For last night.”   
  
With that, Kouyou made his escape, jogging down the hallway quickly to get to class before the final bell rang. He made it all the way to his seat before he realized what exactly it was that he had just said that, unbeknownst to him, left the petite teen in a sputtering fluster of surprise and embarrassment; feeding him to the interrogating sharks that were his friends.   
  
“Thanks for last night?!” 

 

**►►**

 

**The fuck? Hippos?**

From: [Fadeless_Beauty@hotmail.com](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=mailto%3AFadeless_Beauty%40hotmail.com&t=Zjg2ZjQ2MWI5ZTJjNjM4ZmIzYjY3ZDMxNDIxYjU5ZGU0YmUzNmQ4OCw1U1lIdDZGZA%3D%3D&b=t%3Az1jlnJPC-wfvRAGhAPUqjg&p=http%3A%2F%2Furuhaxrukifanfics.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F102246257136%2Ftitle-only-you-pairing-uruki-uruha-x-ruki-and&m=1)  
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_Monday, December 8, 2013 9:50 PM_

Maybe I should start calling you a drunken hippo from now on, since I’m now a shrimp in your eyes. Seriously. The mental image isn’t going to go away for a while.

Hey, no I didn’t! I’m not _entirely_. I mean, I do go to the gym, but not as much as I should? I try to, but I don’t have the time. The world isn't ready for an in-shape, better version of myself. Take my word for it. I'd be unstoppable. I'm doing everyone a favor, even you. On that note, you can go fuck yourself (and I say this with as much feeling and love a friend could ever say to another). Just admit that if you taught me a thing or two, you're afraid that I'd give you a run for your money. It's okay, we're being real, right? You can totally admit it that. And it's fine, no worries. Tell me whenever you're ready. There's no rush, and I won't push you.

I don't - didn't - dance in ballet. I watched and played on the piano afterwards. If it helps, I can replicate a mean first through fifth position real nice. I can still hear my aunt's voice in my head repeating it over and over in my head when I think about it.

Me? Inspiring? I think this is a first anyone has ever told me that before… You sure do know how to butter a person up, huh.

What do you mean "if I want to see you?" Of course I want to, dumbass. Why wouldn't I? And there's no way I'm letting you spend money like that when you can spend it on something more useful for you. You know, sometimes you can’t always satisfy everybody. It puts a strain on you over time, and that isn't good. If you can’t be real ‘outside’ with everyone else from here, is it too much to ask if you can be yourself with me? I’m not pinning anything on you to be someone you’re not, or even expecting you to be…I don’t know, anything other people expect you to be. Just be…yourself. I want to know you.

…Do you seriously think I’m worrying about Shima? Of course he’s one big flake, but…I don’t know, I always thought of him as a massive flake (and a lot of other things) for so long. But I believe that if he has a girlfriend, the least he could do is have someone that would stick around regardless of his asshole tendencies. I would want someone to stick around and love me for me and somehow be able to handle a bit of extra baggage; not use me just for my status. I’ve always held on to the belief that everyone deserves someone special, and it's something I strongly stick to it. Even the flakiest of people in the world need love. If we can’t have anything else, love should be it; love, happiness, and a peace of mind.

lol I’m not _that_ bad, fuck you very much. I just like to have a bit of fun from time to time (you’ve got to be a bit spontaneous every once in a while, right?). And I’m always the epitome of a perfect gentleman. I wouldn't be anything less.

Hmm, a secret I wouldn’t tell anyone else? Let’s see… I’ve never been out on a date before. You know, the whole dinner, movie, walk in the park and kiss under the starlight-shit afterwards, or fluorescent lights/lamp post in this case. I like the whole intimate air about it and comfortable chemistry between people on dates like that. When I put it this way, I guess I sound ashamed? Embarrassed? Maybe a little, since I feel like I’m missing out on this big thing that’s supposed to be one of the highlights of intimacy and I’m too shy (yes, shy, don't look at me like that) to admit outwardly to anyone else.

So, what about you, hotshot? Tell me something that you wouldn’t tell anyone else. It better be fucking good, and I mean face-burning good like my face feels right now.

**Rookie**

 

**►►**

The Winter formal was the latest buzz around school. The walls were loitered with promotional formal fliers almost everywhere Kouyou turned - he ruefully thought of those carpal tunnel syndrome symptoms each time he was stuck with the job to put up any form of flyers around school -  and the center topic of conversations he happened to be looped in. It was everything everyone couldn't stop talking about. Students were gathering up what wit and nerves they had to ask out that certain person they've planned from the moment the school semester started, some taking the time to find the perfect dress, reserve the perfect spot for that pre-dance dinner, and Kouyou...

Well, all he wanted to do was get through the monotonous drawl of the lecture in Social Studies class in one piece without dying out of boredom.

Yuu had already clocked out, pillowing his head atop of his desk and softly snoring away to catch what sleep he missed out on the previous night. Kouyou found entertainment in kicking his desk to startle him awake for a short period of time until a hushed conversation captured his attention.

"There's no way she's gonna go to the dance with you." A male voice scoffed in sheer doubt behind him.

"Why not?" Another responded incredulously somewhere from his left, a grin curling in his tone. "Have some faith in me. I've got this in the bag. I know I do."

Kouyou was curious. He had nothing else better to do but turn to glance over his left shoulder and look to the chattering teens behind him. A muse of magenta, red and purple mused, layered locks was what made the boy across from him stand out the most, the sides of his head shaved low to form a full mohawk mullet. His right eyebrow was pierced and a lip ring sat along the corner of his lower lip that reminded him of Takanori's own, but didn't nearly swell up the feeling of fascination Kouyo felt fill the lining of his stomach when he looked at him. His name was Takamasa Ishihara - or Miyavi.  Just about everyone and their mother addressed him by the nickname he crowned himself.

He followed Miyavi's gaze in intrigue. When his eyes landed onto a certain girl some desks away from them,her hair neatly tied in a bun atop of her head and her hand , Kouyou snorted.

"Not a chance in hell." Kouyou quietly scoffed. "Melody wouldn't give you the time of day. She has standards." They never talked much aside from sharing a few classes and an elective music class together, but Miyavi was a familiar face in the group of dysfunction Takanori often hung around and the possibilities for the teen were zero to none. Not in this lifetime, anyway.

Miyavi's eyes regarded Kouyou for a while before he leaning his weight forward on his folded arms atop of his desk. A twinkle gleamed in his eyes. "How much are you willing to put down, Shima?"

"Twenty," Kouyou responded without a missed beat. "'I'll even pitch in an extra ten if she says yes without trying to let you down too bad."

"You're on. And Just so you know," Miyavi smirked smugly. "I only take cash, in full and upfront."

"Yeah, sure. Whatever you say." Kouyou rolled his eyes and returned his attention back to the front of the classroom. Specifically to eyeing Yuu's back and kicking his desk whenever his snores were becoming loud. Perhaps he would have liked this bet a lot more if he wasn't so sure on how the cards would fall for Miyavi. In the end, it would be his wallet that would be thirty dollars richer.

Watching the minutes drag by was torture. Eventually, Kouyou's bladder demanded relief and he excused himself to step out and make his way through the halls in search of the nearest restroom. He had the slightest thought to stick it out and quietly roam the halls until the dismissal bell rang, but joining his friend for a quick nap seemed-

"Oof!"

As Kouyou distractedly turned a corner he collided with someone else - someone that was in much more of a hurry than he was, it seemed. It was sheer habit alone that made Kouyou reach out to grab the person that had ran into him and hold them stead. They were stumbling, falling backwards, and Kouyou hadn't thought anything of it but to catch them before they had a hard fall. He didn't think. And because he didn't, stormy grey eyes registered obsidian eyes first before registering their owner after a hand blindly curled tight into the front of his shirt.

“Shima?” Takanori exhaled, startled and a bit breathless. In turn, a look of equal surprise graced Kouyou's features.  

"Takanori?" Kouyou frowned, "What the fuck are you doing?  Where are you going?" He asked, but the familiar voice of the assistant principal cutting into the air, calling out Takanori's name, was what made them both look in direction from where they heard, breaking their locked gaze. Footsteps were drawing closer, and he watched as Takanori frantically looked around for any type of escape like a cornered mouse as a swore under his breath. It was safe to assume that the boy had done something to make a run out of getting caught. If Takanori had a series of detention now, there would be no telling if he would ever see daylight after school again before winter break once they pile up his sentence from making the assistant principle, of all people, chase after him.

What a fucking idiot.  

"Jesus," Kouyou swore. Without wasting another second they couldn't afford he took hold of Takanori by his bicep and hastily guided them both a few steps towards a nearby door.

“Wait, wait, wait," Takanori stuttered, nearly tripping over his own feet. "What the hell are you-”

“Shut up and get in.” Kouyou hissed warningly with a glare, not caring to take the time of shoving the shorter teen inside none too gently once opening the door and quickly following inside behind him, closing the door as quietly as he could behind them. All he wanted to do was step out of class for a bit just to take a quick piss and go back so he could snooze away the last remaining 30 minutes he had left behind Yuu’s desk. However, things as of lately seemed to end up with him getting tangled in Takanori’s mess, whether he wanted to or not. It was unclear to him what exactly was going on, but one thing was for certain: he needed to stop acting on shit before he could properly think things out.

The room that he managed to squeeze them both in was a more-than-cramped space of a janitor’s closet that was filled with mops, brooms, a bucket, and something else that sent the shorter teen of the two stumbling right into Kouyou’s chest. Kouyou’s back met the door with an audible _thump_ when Takanori attempted to regain his balance.

“Would you stop? You’re gonna get us both caught!” Kouyou whispered harshly with a wince when something, which felt like a camera, pressed uncomfortably into his stomach. His breath, however, caught in the middle of his throat when he felt a nose dig clumsily into the juncture where his neck and shoulder met. He froze. It stunned him just as much as the warmth that stung his very skin. Somehow, his hands blindly found Takanori’s sides – slender, warm and strangely soft in his hold – with the intent to push him away out of sheer reflex, yet he only held him in place with a grip that made the smaller gasp quietly against his skin. To still him, Kouyou reminded himself in a string of chants inside his head as he felt fingers curl into the front of his shirt at his chest and a hand at his shoulder. It wouldn’t do them an inch of good if they were both caught now. Kouyou was now an assistant to Takanori’s skipping escapade, an asset for aiding him, a-

Takanori’s breath, uneven and somewhat clipped, fanning over the crook of Kouyou’s neck and the beating of his own heart filling his ears prevented him from pinpointing the confused steps of the assistant principal in search of the delinquent that Kouyou currently held in the hold of his hands; pressed flushed against him, or held in place. He couldn’t tell the difference between if it was he himself that was holding Takanori in place, or the clinging grip of fingers at his chest that hadn’t relinquished him yet since he told the shorter to be still. But the skim of lips that met his skin with Takanori’s small shift against him made him tremble softly, and his grip tightened at the shorter teen’s sides.

“Fuck," A pained whimper in a quiet whisper tumbled into his neck, "too tight." and Kouyou, with a startle of his own to be pulled out of his reverie, hadn’t realized just how tight his grip had becom until Takanori's voice reached his ears.

“I'm sorry, I didn’t-“ He was just about to apologize for the second time in Takanori’s presence all on his own free will, all while attempting to stomach the rather compromising position that made him feel far too warm, too out of his element for reign of control in the darkness of a cramped janitor’s room that barely left any proper room to move. But as they shifted, the last thing that Kouyou expected to make him swallow his own words, out of all other possibilities, was the slide of warm, full lips fitting over his own in an accidental meet of a kiss. The contrast of metal from a lip ring blanked his thoughts as they stilled tensely against one another. When the bell sounded for their class quarter to end, it was that Takanori jumped in startle in the hold of Kouyou’s hands with a sharp inhale through his nostrils; hands that had, at some point, found the boy's sides once more without thought.

There had been a rushed whisper of apology against his lips– Kouyou was sure of it. He _felt it_. But Takanori had yanked himself away from him as if he had burned him to stumble out and shut the door behind him; left him in a haze of confusion, reeled thoughts that failed to catch up with him, in a closet that, he realized as he touched his fingertips to where he could still feel the warm press of Takanori’s lips, he was afraid to come out of. 

He was afraid.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“You know where to find me if you want to talk.”_

“Hey, where the fuck are you? Pick up your phone!”

“Baby? Is everything okay? I just got back and I want to see you.”

“I swear to god, if you don’t answer me I’m coming over myself.”

“Yo! You coming to practice or what? Coach is gonna have your ass if you’re skipping out on us now.”

“KOUYOU!”

For the past two days Kouyou’s text messages were a flood to his phone he wished would cease already. He didn’t see the point of answering anyone when all he wanted was to be left alone and keep to the safety of his bedroom under the false pretense that he was with a stomach virus that his body couldn’t kick. But solitude did not come easy, and if it did, it always came with a price. The feel of Takanori’s lips against his haunted his thoughts at almost every waking moment. When he closed his eyes, he swore that he could smell the slightest hint of vanilla and coffee beans flood his nostrils, still hear the way Takanori’s breath hitched, feel his jumbled apology on  his lips, and his hands remember the warmth of his waist; how strangely soft it had been even when he had found himself squeezing so tight. Most importantly, he couldn’t shake away the feel of that lip ring that had bit into his lower lip.

It made him sick. It made him sick that it hadn’t repulsed him as much as he wanted it to. It made him _sick_ that he was cowering away from the world behind the sanctity of his bedroom, left alone to unforgiving thoughts when he knew it wasn’t him. This wasn’t him. But how would he know? How would he know when he didn’t majority of the time? A swell of violence bloomed within him heatedly, compelling him to reach for his phone and fling it aside across the room when it vibrated once more atop of his nightstand just to discharge a bit of steam. His fingers curled tightly around the device that lay helpless to his impending abuse, but the teen faltered when soft knocks at his bedroom door cut through the stilled air and his reverie.

“Kouyou? Are you awake?” It was his mother, the sound of her voice rooting him where he resided in bed. Kouyou sighed deeply, regarding his phone contemplatively before retracting his hand back beneath the sheets that concealed him from sight besides his face and his mused locks.

“Yeah, I’m awake.” he muttered impassively, passing a hand through his hair before realizing she couldn’t have possibly heard him unless he spoke up a little lighter. “Come in, mom.”

His mother was a woman of luxury with a heart of gold that costed more than the trips she's embarked on from time to time in her lifetime and a gentle smile that Kouyou always found comfort in. She softened his father’s rough edges, he supposed, with as harsh as they could be. Soothing and understanding, she was, and receptive to Kouyou’s silent desire to be heard and a comforting hand when needed before he could contemplate asking. Or, in this case, wanting to be left alone.

She sat closest to the edge of the bed beside him after gingerly placing the hot cup of tea she carried with her on his nightstand beside, brushing back a long lock of dark brown hair over her shoulder. Once her hands were free, she gave a soft pat to her lap in silent invitation for Kouyou to rest his head atop of it so that she may soothingly pass her fingers through his hair; soft, brunette locks that Kouyou favored a little more when other people tended to it. Kouyou surfaced from the comfort of his blankets just enough to shift and pillow his head atop of her lap, a soft sigh leaving his lips.

“How’s your stomach virus?” She asked lowly. Kouyou, however, simply gave a small shrug of his shoulders.

“It’s alright. Not as bad as yesterday, I guess.” He didn’t particularly like lying to his mom. Her pauses and lack of immediate answer sometimes made him think she read right through them, yet opted not to say otherwise. Silence was easier to maneuver around, easier to skirt over the details instead of confront for an immediate solution and answer – an honest one. Had she did, Kouyou wasn’t sure he could do it. Honesty wasn’t exactly handled very well within the Takashima household, opting to be swept under a rug and never discussed again if not approved of. It was what happened with Melissa when their parents found out about her escapades before she moved out. The only one he has ever been remotely honest with was...Rookie.

The thought of his partnered pen pal made something in his stomach twist and he shut his eyes with a deep sigh. He hadn’t touched his e-mail at all since the janitor closet fiasco, but there hadn’t been a single moment that he didn’t think about him; didn’t think about what happened as it plagued the walls of his thoughts. There was too much going on all at once, and he was at a loss of what to do. There was no manuscript for him to look to when he felt the way he did.

“Mom?” he called lowly to the woman that gave him space in his silence, despite humming inquisitively. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course you can.” She smiled, gently scratching Kouyou’s scalp in soothing little strokes and caresses of her fingers at his hair. “You can talk to me about anything.”

Anything, she says. Right. If only it was as easy as she made it out to be. Kouyou was willing to bet his left nut that she’d take those words back in a heartbeat if she knew exactly what was wrong.

“There’s this guy- well, a friend,” that sounded a little better. “that doesn’t know what he wants. He does, kind of, but he doesn’t know how to come to grips or handle it due to…some complications. He's afraid of what it might mean if he does, and he did something pretty stupid because of it.” he bit his lower lip thoughtfully, his mother’s fingers still coursing through his hair as if that would help get what he wanted to say out in the open the way he needed to. If only it was that simple. “How can I… What can I do for support? I want to be there for him.”

His mother hummed softly, a low, languid drawl as her grey eyes peered down at her son that hadn’t moved an inch to look up at her. “I think it is sweet of you, to be there for him. Let him take his time. This seems like something he has to work out for himself personally, but knowing he has family and friends like you he can confide in, willing to be there for him every step of the way, is more than you can possibly give anyone. Something as simple yet so big goes a long way, sweetheart.” Her words were soothing to listen to, smooth like the comfort of her fingers and as warm as a mid-summer’s breeze that airily spoke to him from the very depths he concealed beneath his layers. And for some reason, his thoughts wandered back to Rookie. Passionate, inspiring Rookie that made him grin too much and installed flutters in his stomach just at the sight of his bolded e-mail address when a response waited for him to click on and read. He missed him. Maybe, just maybe, he could…

“Thanks, mom.” He murmured softly, sitting up to meet her gaze with a small smile that she made sure to return before gently pulling him into a warm hug; distantly smelling of Dior and tangerines.

"Any time, sweetheart," she pressed her nose into his hair and sighed into it, holding him close with a hand resting at the back of his head, absently smoothing the rebellious strands of his hair that stuck up. "Anytime." When she drew back, it seemed as if maybe there was something else she wanted to say, but she simply smiled and took her leave after pressing a chaste kiss to his cheek, settling with telling him to take it easy instead. Once she was gone, Kouyou’s eyes found his computer across the room. He pulled back the sheets and eased himself out of bed to cross over and take a seat in front of his PCU, teacup in hand. It hadn’t been turned on in the past two days for the sake of not falling into temptation of checking the many social media platforms that he was associated with. But even with temptation at his very fingertips he had no desire to check any of them. His fingers punched in the password to his e-mail account, breath held in his throat and eyes searching for Rookie’s e-mail amongst the mess of junk mail he had no intentions to read. His eyes craved Rookie’s words to read with a thirst that could only come from a place within him so parched.

Their messages seemed to grow in length with each passing exchange, and Kouyou didn’t know if that was good or bad. It made him feel anxious, his eyes taking in all that was on his screen with a smile he couldn’t prevent even if he tried. He missed him.

**I’m a drunk, hypocrite hippo, I know.**

**From:**  [newyorkminute@live.com](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=mailto%3Anewyorkminute%40live.com&t=MmU2ZDQxOTU1YTkzMDVkNzhlYjE0MjBmMGIxMWRhNWNjM2NkNTEyMSxUMUFHSGRhWQ%3D%3D&b=t%3Az1jlnJPC-wfvRAGhAPUqjg&p=http%3A%2F%2Furuhaxrukifanfics.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F128146196036%2Ftitle-only-you-pairing-uruki-uruha-x-ruki-and&m=1)   
  **To:**  [Fadless_Beauty@hotmail.com](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=mailto%3AFadless_Beauty%40hotmail.com&t=MWY1MmMxMTNjZWMwOGRmMzcyZWQ0NmM0Mzc3ODdmOTc5MjQ2MTRjMCxUMUFHSGRhWQ%3D%3D&b=t%3Az1jlnJPC-wfvRAGhAPUqjg&p=http%3A%2F%2Furuhaxrukifanfics.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F128146196036%2Ftitle-only-you-pairing-uruki-uruha-x-ruki-and&m=1)   
_Thursday, December 11, 2013 1:18 PM_    
  
You’re welcome anytime. That’s what I’m here for: to give you unpleasant mental imagery.

 _Riiiight_. Yeah, you got me. I'm totally afraid that you'll show up and show out once I teach you all there is to know. I don't take well to losing, but if it's you I guess it's fine. I guess.

Butter up? I’m being honest. If you’re trying to subtly call me a kiss-ass…well, you wouldn’t be too far off from the truth (I’m kidding. I don’t kiss ass unless I have to, but in this case I genuinely mean it).

What if I want to? You can’t stop me from wanting to. It’ll be a gift or something. I’ll figure it out later. But, you sure do know how to pitch an offer, I can tell you that much, and I’m sold. You got me. I don’t think that’s too much to ask for, and honestly all I want is for you to be the same with me in return. Here is probably the only place I feel I can be remotely myself, and with the best pen pal partner no less, so I can’t complain. You know, I haven’t thanked you for all this food for thought in every email. You should start a book or something; be a big best seller hit in Barnes & Noble. I’d buy it and come to the book signing for your autograph, have you make it out to the Socially Awkward Hippo loser from high school that has a tendency of being a hypocrite.

I know I told you to talk to me even when life’s giving you shit, but here I am taking a backseat, ignoring my e-mails and going M.I.A. I’m sorry. Feel free to scold me. I’m a hypocrite, I know. But if it’s worth it, it’s safe to say I missed you. And no, I’m not saying that in hopes you won’t crack the whip down too hard on my ass. I mean it.

Point taken, I guess. The flakes and jerk-offs need love too, huh? That’s cute. Really. I don’t know, maybe they deserve each other. The two, biggest flakes of the century ending up together sounds appropriate to me, but then again what do I know? He seems decently okay with how things are. Sure, it has its messed up qualities, but it is what it is. They look pretty comfy to me.  

…Holy shit, really? What are you waiting for? Get out there and play the field! Hasn’t anyone asked you out? Or have you asked anyone out yet? Is there anyone you’re interested in? Christ… You know what? Don’t be embarrassed. Take your time. I’ll make a deal with you. If you haven’t had a date yet by the time we meet up in person (if you don’t, you know, hate my existence between now and then, or after then) or by the end of the school year, I’ll personally make it happen. Like, a guy-friend date or some shit. Just guys hanging out, minus the other sappy bit (awkward hippo, I know, but I'm trying not to be).

Kouyou paused. His front teeth found the plush of his lower lip and his fingers stilled atop of the keys of his keyboard. A secret worth saying, something he couldn’t possibly tell anyone else, not even his closest friend Yuu. It bubbled at the tip of his tongue, made his insides twist uncomfortably at the thought of it, yet…this was it. If he was going to say it, now was the perfect time. But saying it meant it was real, and despite it just being words surfacing on a screen of his computer it was still there as plain as day. A truth soaked in by his eyes and the eyes that could be anyone amongst many that attended his school.

Saying it just made it all the more real, and Kouyou wasn’t sure if he could do it.

“Don’t pussy out now.” Kouyou muttered gruffly to himself under his breath, his adam’s apple bobbing in his hesitance when he swallowed thickly with a brief close of his eyes. It was better now, when he could be real for the first time in years…with Rookie. So he took the plunge, took that dive, and with a deep exhale of breath his fingers flew across his keyboard.

  I think I may be gay.

 

**ÆTIUS**

 

**►►**

 

Yuu was incapable of leaving him alone – always have been – but it was safe to say that Kouyou missed him. It was only common sense to expect a whole backlash of flak for letting the darker haired teen catch that 'prison bus' of a public transport by himself. Which was why when he hadn’t, Kouyou couldn’t help but be surprised. Yes, his ear had been unloaded on. Had a whole lot of chewing out about dropping off the face of the earth and not telling him personally what was up. But if only he knew… Would Yuu lock his neck in a grappling hug the way he did Friday morning? Cold as all hell and practically sniffling with runny noses and nearly slipping on a piece of ice together despite the looks they received while standing out sorely as they laughed and goofed off heartily – Yuu serving them with equally perplexed looks with secondhand judgement at their attire and sticky-fingered little runts – would this had been the same had he told him?

Kouyou didn’t want to think about it. One person knowing was more than enough without the risk of losing anyone in the process, whomever they happened to be in the vast sea of faces at school. Two, kind of, if he somewhat counted Takanori and their incident. Despite being unable to help himself he had subtly looked for Takanori’s face when he and Yuu boarded the bus after rummaging his pockets for spare change. Relief never tasted so sweet as it did when he didn't spot the familiar stain of red dye amongst dark layered locks in a crowd of unfamiliar faces. And yet his stomach hollowed, sinking a tad bit with something he couldn’t put his finger on. He wanted to clear this mess up before it got out. That could have been the only reasonable explination why he was so hell-bent on seeking Takanori out.

Much to his dismay, Takanori hadn’t shown up to school at all. The hint had been taken when Kouyou noticed Takanori’s seat was unoccupied by the time World History class rolled around by second period and a particular absence had been noted when he caught sight of Takanori’s notably dysfunctional group of rejects and oddball weirdos. A girl from the group (Kyoko, was it?) had caught him staring in the middle of changing classes and Kouyou, whom had been waiting on Linda to get her books from her locker so that they could walk to class together, urgently looked elsewhere with a faint, rosy hue coloring his cheeks in mild embarrassment. The last thing he needed was for someone to think that he was purposely scoping out Takanori’s whereabouts.

“Come by my house later? I want to show you the dress I got in L.A. for the dance.” Linda said, closing her locker and securing it was locked up in place before sidling up Kouyou’s side for his arm to drape over her shoulders automatically without thought. “My parents won’t be home until Sunday. We can…catch up. You know, like we used to. What do you say?” She asked, a mere allure of a whisper at his ear as her perfectly manicured fingers latched to Kouyou’s hand at her shoulder and entwined their fingers loosely. The invitation was inviting, but it hadn’t sparked Kouyou the way he hoped it would. Maybe he wasn’t gay. Maybe he just needed the right atmosphere, the right timing. Heather’s party hadn’t been perfect, even if circumstances were. But then he had saw Takanori across the room, unable to stop looking at him dance while he made out with some guy; the peak of the small of his back when his shirt rode up with his ass in the air looking for a jacket to buy him Advil; Rookie…

“I’ll be there.”

Kouyou sealed his promise with a brief kiss to her baby pink lips to halt his thoughts from wandering any further, the strawberry scent of her lip gloss filling his nostrils as they walked the crowded halls that practically parted for them leisurely regardless of the late bell ringing.

He’ll be over to Linda’s, but there was something he had to settle first before he could move on with his life. Takanori’s mouth wasn’t a guarantee that would keep shut and Kouyou wanted to make sure that what happened technically didn’t happen as far as running of the mouth went. Not a word was meant to be repeated or discussed in recall. In fact, he wanted him to _not_ to think about it. Forgetting about it entirely was Kouyou’s main goal, and he wanted to make sure Takanori would do the same.

It was why, right after his classes ended for the day, he took the bus to the coffee shop Takanori worked at. He had seen him dart off the bus the other day in a rush to run the rest of the way there in a hurry when the boy tripped over his foot in the process after sticking around for detention. Personally, Kouyou hadn't visited this particular Starbucks as frequent as his peers did. For him, it was easier to swing by Starbucks on Broadway Street most times than here on Spring Street when he once had his car, but he couldn’t exactly complain. He was there already, toughing out a pretty busy crowd and too far in to back out now. The possibility of Takanori not even being there crossed his mind and he groaned in mild annoyance under his breath.  It was his own mistake for not considering that scenario. If he wasn’t here today, then…

“Thanks, come back soon!”

That had been Takanori’s voice cutting through the air of chatter and coffee beans steaming. It was disgustingly sweet and actually civil with manners, and without a single ounce of profanities or insults dropped. Maybe that was just with him, but Kouyou was willing to accept that just as much as he could accept sticking around and toughing out the busy line he waited in. From where he stood, he had a perfect view of watching the teen take orders, using an accommodating smile no matter how outrageously irritating a specific ordered drink was given to him to ring up. It was a smile Kouyou had never seen before, but he knew a surprised look when he saw one when Takanori’s dark eyes spotted him.

Kouyou swallowed silently, his heart thumping away oddly in his chest in a fleeting touch and go of alarm, but there had been no judgement in the look that Takanori gave him before returning his attention back to the costumer he paused amidst talking with, operating the register and alternating between scribbling names on plastic cups before repeating the process all over again. Before Kouyou knew it, he was Takanori’s next customer.

“Hey…” Kouyou trailed off awkwardly, uselessly sniffling as if the air wasn’t congested enough with aimless chatter and impatient customers behind him. Time was money, after all, and Takanori regarded him with a careful gaze as if he intended to try something stupid. “I, um… Can I get a hot chocolate with caramel drizzle, and an order of Can We Talk?” he watched as Takanori’s fingers paused abruptly at the cash register, and those dark eyes snapped up to meet his gaze with a sharpness that had never outwardly fazed him until now. It made him shift his weight from one foot to the other as he held the other’s gaze and tried not to meet it challengingly as he had grown so accustomed to; expectantly raising his eyebrows while shoving his hands in the pockets of his jacket.

“I’m sorry,” Takanori said sweetly, coupled with a practiced smile reserved just for his customers alone, “the customer before you just took the last one. Would you like to try one of our holiday special treats of Go Fuck Yourself instead? It’s pretty good, actually. Personally, between you and me, I highly recommend.”

“Go-“ Kouyou cut himself off abruptly, inhaling slowly through his nostrils to ease the automatic urge to lash back in a hushed yet slightly hissed murmur. Was that a hint of a smirk? “Ten minutes. That’s it.”

“I’m on the clock.”

“Five, then.” Kouyou determinedly bargained, not once backing down as he tried to keep Takanori’s gaze from averting anywhere else, shifting his weight and leaning a bit as he rested his hands atop of the counter. The shorter teen looked at him pointedly with an irritated frowns. It was the restless sound of other awaiting customers that pushed an answer out of him though, and his dark eyes flickered fleetingly to look at them over Kouyou’s shoulder before resuming his attention back to the cash register.

“Here or to go?”

“Here.” Kouyou said, reaching for his wallet to pay the amount displayed as he sighed inaudibly out of relief.

“I’m on break in five minutes.” Takanori sighed in defeat, ringing up the order properly before taking the money Kouyou gave him, placing it where it should be and distributing change paired with a receipt. “Five minutes.”

“Five minutes.”

Kouyou stood off to the side to wait for his order, letting the next customer behind him take his spot. Despite himself, his eyes occasionally found Takanori to watch him. It was an odd feat being in the same vicinity as the boy outside of school and not drunk, or fending off meathead football players for him. The past few days were one hell of a ride, but he had every intention to nip things in the bud.

Once he got his hot chocolate Kouyou found a spot to wait for Takanori. It was a little secluded and damn near perfect since Takanori could find him a little easier when he’d come from behind the counter once his break rolled in. Sighing seemed to be a pastime these days, but Kouyou couldn’t help it. His thoughts whirled with how to approach the topic of discussion as he busied himself with fishing in his pocket for his cellphone once sitting aside his backpack in the unoccupied chair beside him, trying not to tap his e-mail app to see if Rookie responded back to him today, and failing for the umpteenth time. He was about to switch over to Twitter and check what was the buzz with everyone that he followed when Takanori sat heavily into the seat across the table from him, a small grunt wedging between them along with the careful placement of hot chocolate that looked just like Kouyou’s order.

“Alright, Shima, five minutes.” Takanori said, pulling out his phone from the pocket of his apron and tampering with it before setting it in the middle of the table face-up to display, much to Kouyou’s sneaking suspicion, a set timer.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” Kouyou rubbed at his eyes with the pads of his thumb and pointer finger.

“I’d get to talking if I were you.” Takanori quirked an eyebrow, evidently pleased with the turn of tables. Kouyou was on his turf, came to seek _him_ out, and from the look on his face there was no doubt that he wanted to milk this as much as he could before he had the just dessert of telling him to fuck right off before stepping out to waste the rest of his break on a cigarette outside. “Tick-tok. Use your minutes wisely.”

“ _Right_.” Kouyou rolled his eyes, hiding his displeased frown behind a careful sip of his hot chocolate. But it was silence that met the air stubbornly as he racked his brain for the right words to use. How was he supposed to come out and just say it? “You weren’t to school today.”

“Oh, you showed up to school today? Neither were you yesterday, or the day before that, but something tells me you couldn’t give a rat’s ass about whether or not I show up.” Takanori flippantly remarked with ease, his dark eyes, softly lidded and analyzing, watching Kouyou. “Let’s cut the bullshit and get down to what you’re here for. Want to know what I think you’re really here for?” his hands cupped either side of his porcelain cup and he slowly leaned forward, resting his arms on the tabletop, “I think you want to know if I said anything about what happened in the janitor’s closet.” His voice was low, all too knowing, and for a moment Kouyou’s shoulders visibly tensed as his jaw set warningly for the shorter teen to not press too much. But this wasn’t his turf, his rules did not exist here, and Takanori knew that just as much as Kouyou did. “Kouyou Takashima, school’s star basketball captain and closeted gay, made a move on the residential ‘freak’.”

“I'm not gay," He quickly interjected, low and warning. "Second of all, I didn’t make a move on you.”

“You’re not?” Takanori snorted, “Could’ve fooled me.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Kouyou demanded incredulously.

“It means exactly what it means. You kissed me–“

“The fuck I did. That was all you, pressing in too close–“

“Me? _Me_?” Takanori laughed mockingly. “If I remember clearly, it was _you_ and your death grip squeezing the living shit out of me.”

“None of this,” Kouyou gestured between them with a hand in irritation, the tips of his ears red, “would have happened if you hadn’t been srunning from the assistant principle inn the first place.”

“Okay, but I didn’t tell you to shove me into a closet. No one made you help me. You did that on your own freewill. _You_.” Their eyes blazed with the air between them that was too charged for what was originally supposed to be a touch and go of telling Takanori not to speak a word of what happened. It was supposed to be easy and done with, and leave time for Kouyou to go  to Linda’s place so they could maybe spend the weekend ‘catching up’, not have Takanori’s buzzer go off on his phone and find his eyes too tempted to glance at the way Takanori bit the silver of his lip ring with a little huff to discharge a bit of his tampered nerves and temper. Takanori snatched up his phone, pressing at the screen in a way of impatience before fixing his gaze back on Kouyou once more.

“Look,” Takanori said, passing his fingers through his fringe dyed with a touched up stain of red, “I didn’t say anything about it. Okay? Your secret’s safe with me. I promise.” Although he pocketed his cellphone, he made no other move to get up and leave like he had stressed he would. Instead, he carefully sipped from his respective drink.

“…Okay.” Kouyou murmured, a little breathless from his nerves that had, at some point, became a mess of knots as he rubbed at the back of his neck, averting his gaze. “It’s…it’s not really a secret. I mean, I don’t want this getting out. Just… Fuck.” He groaned lowly, passing his fingers through his locks as he furrowed his eyebrows. “I don’t know. If I am or not.” It was low whisper that was nearly swallowed whole by the commotion of chattering customers and softly played music, but Takanori heard him. If he had any intentions of leaving Takanori hadn’t acted on it. Instead, he regarded Kouyou with a long look that almost felt a little unnerving, but it was a gaze that reminded him of the way he had looked at him when he asked the boy for a ride home after Heather’s party last weekend.

“What do you mean you don’t know?”

“It means exactly what it means, dipshit. I can’t get any clearer than that.” Kouyou retorted dryly with a roll of his eyes, only to wince with a small yelp of pain at the swift kick he received to his shin underneath the table.

“I’m not stupid, I know that.” Takanori glared. “I mean, do you like the sausage feast that goes on in the locker room during games or something? Like, does being around hardly-cladded sausages get you all hot, heavy and worked up?”

“What? _No_!”

“Then what do you mean?” Takanori pressed, not bothering to cut back as he leaned forward on his arms rested over the table. “You’ve got Gay Bar on you iPod and you kissed me in a closet. Honestly, it doesn’t get any gayer than that. I mean, it _could_ , but…”

“First of all, fuck you. I told you not to bring that up again. Second of all, aren’t we past the five minutes mark? I thought that was all I was gonna get.”

“That was before you decided to come out to me.” Takanori frowned, and for a moment Kouyou could have sworn a gleam of something softened in his eyes. “Start talking.”

Kouyou wasn’t outing himself. He hadn’t. But he didn’t have the heart to correct Takanori that looked at him without an ounce of mock or a glimmer of teasing. He was all ears, his attention undivided, and Kouyou found that familiar feeling of ease prominent in the pit of his gut similar to the night during Heather’s party; before roadside gas stations and the late night babbling into the night of ear piercings and stalling to not leave. It was a feeling that seemed to only be coaxed out by Takanori alone. The feeling of needing to be something he wasn’t, to uphold any sort of perfect facade needed for him to like him wasn't necessary - not here, not now. The reason could have easily been because Takanori was the residential fuckup, and the fact that Kouyou was so much better than him even on his worst given day. But now, even while sober, Kouyou could say that that wasn’t the case.

He took a deep breath, parted his lips in preparation to spill himself in trickles, but it was the ring of his phone notifying him that he had a text from Linda asking of his whereabouts, winking emoji and all with hearts and sparkles, that stopped him. That was all it took for Kouyou’s jaw to tense softly and his throat to choke back the words that readied at the tip of his tongue.

“Linda?” Takanori asked from across the table knowingly, the tone of his voice more than enough to gain Kouyou’s attention to look up at him despite how low it was. The startled look in his stormy grey eyes made Takanori smirk faintly, and this time Kouyou hadn’t the heart to return it.

“I’ve gotta go.” Kouyou murmured lowly, pocketing his phone in his jacket as he stood to his feet and reached for his backpack. He knew he wasn't obligated to give an explanation, but he felt...compelled to, in some way or form.  “I promised Linda I’d stay over for the weekend.”

“Sounds like fun.” Takanori dryly snorted , waving about his pointer finger in a mock of celebration for the taller teen. However, he frowned in confusion as he watched Kouyou dig around in his backpack once unzipping it open after the other boy paused in afterthought. Once Kouyou retrieved what he was looking for, he handed over a folder marked with Takanori's name in a rich strokes of black sharpie marker. “The fuck is this?” he asked, eyeing the folder cautiously.

“Homework, dipshit. What else?” Kouyou rolled his eyes, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, and ignored the spread of a blush he could feel crawling up the nape of his neck. He needed a backup plan to coax Takanori into talking to him anything else didn't work. But now that he thought about it, staying a little longer after school to wait for their teacher to gather up missed homework for the boy and offer to take it to him since he was going in the direction where he knew Takanori worked may did seem a little...out of his way. “I thought you said you weren’t stupid.”

“I’m smarter than you on any given day, ass-hat.” Takanori’s eyes narrowed, but he took the folder all the same, staring at his name written on the front in veiled surprise as Kouyou zipped up his backpack.

“Whatever helps you sleep easier at night, I’ll let you think that.” Kouyou smirked, smooth with an air of roguish charm and sarcasm, as he shouldered the strap of his backpack. He had barely made his way around the table to cross the coffee shop and take his leave before he heard his name called out.

“Kouyou!”

He paused in surprise from reaching for the door and looked over his shoulder towards the sight of Takanori standing from his seat, clutching the folder he had given him close and eyebrows furrowing as if contemplating the words on the flat of his tongue before they met the air and grazed the metal of his piercing at his lower lip.

“You know where to find me if you want to talk.”

Kouyou raising his eyebrows were the only evident notion to showcase his surprise, but it was gone as quickly as it had come. A faint touch of a smirk touched his lips, a hand adjusted the collar of his jersey varsity jacket, and Kouyou took his leave without an ounce of a word spoken to step into the December cold; Takanori’s offer keeping him warm from the inside.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"I care about you."_

**Damn straight you are, Asshole.**    
     From: [Fadless_Beauty@hotmail.com  
](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=mailto%3AFadles_Beauty%40hotmail.com&t=ZTU0MjFjMTk0NWQ0ODEzMmNmZWQ4NWMzM2MyODJlMzZhYTM3NWVlMiwxRGxGY1F0Mg%3D%3D&b=t%3Az1jlnJPC-wfvRAGhAPUqjg&p=http%3A%2F%2Furuhaxrukifanfics.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F150574706626%2Ftitle-only-you-pairing-uruki-uruha-x-ruki-and&m=1)To: [newyorkminute@live.com](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=mailto%3Anewyorkminute%40live.com&t=MmE2NWRjMTY5NGU5OWYwODIwOTA3ZGZkMjNhYzRlYTY3NGEzZTViMSwxRGxGY1F0Mg%3D%3D&b=t%3Az1jlnJPC-wfvRAGhAPUqjg&p=http%3A%2F%2Furuhaxrukifanfics.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F150574706626%2Ftitle-only-you-pairing-uruki-uruha-x-ruki-and&m=1)  
      _Saturday, December 13, 2013 1:11 AM_    
  
_You are so fucking gross. I quit this assignment._

Me? Calling you a kiss-ass?  _Never_ **.** That’s really rude to assume like that. Didn’t your mom teach you any better? (That is, unless you like kissing ass for an entirely different reason. In that case, there’s definitely no judgement here. Wouldn’t have thought you were an ass man, though…)

No, stop, you won’t think about or figure out anything later because you don’t have to. You don’t even know me. But, you’ve got yourself a deal. Until you feel you can outside of our e-mails, or even when we decide to come from behind the anonymity of this assignment, we’ll be real with each other here. No bullshit. Promise? Oh, and speaking of bullshit… You’re absolutely full of it.

You can’t say shit like acknowledging that you’ve been an M.I.A asshole, and then turn around and say you miss me; that isn’t how this is supposed to go. You’re supposed to let me be moody with you, and maybe consider letting you wait out a few hours, days or something, before I respond. Not make me stay up rereading your e-mail for the second time grinning like a mad man at my computer. That’s not fair. But don’t worry, I’ll make sure to sign that book of food for thought to the awkward, hypocrite hippo before making you stay to have dinner or coffee with me afterwards (that you’re paying for).

You’re always welcome, you know. For the thought-food, I mean. You don’t even need to thank me. I just wanna help, if I can. And if it comes in the form of taking pieces of what I say with you from here to think over from time to time, then I’m glad knowing that something I say hopefully helps a little.

What the fuck do you mean you “don’t know?” You’re his friend. You _should_ know. And as a friend, especially since you’ve known him for as long as you stated before a couple of e-mails back, you should say something. Don’t let him waste his time in a relationship that seems so…I don’t know, dead-ended? Stop and correct me if I’m wrong, but wouldn’t you want a friend to kind of shake some sense into you if you were in his position? Biggest flake in the world or not, don’t let him do that to himself. Just…give him a nudge or something. For me?

Sorry to disappoint you, but not everyone can be as potentially attractive as you and have people knocking at the door wanting to take them out as I’m more than sure happens to you. Besides, with as far as my situations goes, actual dates are kind of out of the question for me rn. It sort of works out, I guess.  But…if you’re asking me out - you know, “friend-date without the sappy shit” as you put it - then I can make an exception. (it isn't awkward. It's... I’m charmed. You really should stop doing that. For your sake.)

You know, I wish there was some way I could hug you. There isn’t a single word enough to express my gratitude for sharing something like this with me, of all people. I can only imagine how this feels for you on the other end of the stick, but just know this is okay. This doesn’t change a single thing between us. I would hope this doesn’t? Would it make things a little more relaxed if I said I’m gay, too? I mean, I know you said you think you’re gay, but…no bullshit, right? Let’s lay everything out in the open and be honest in this together. As much as I think I’m going out here on a limb and claiming that you trust me…I’m also going to go out on that same limb and say I trust you, too. So, let me backtrack and introduce myself again.

Hey. My name's Rookie and I like guys, and I hope that this doesn't make you uncomfortable and second guess your interest in this assignment. Still wanna go out on that "date" after all of this?

So, you think you’re gay. Who’s got you questioning your sexuality? Did something happen recently? Some guy catch your eye or something? Let me know, fill me in! I know it’s my turn to ask a question, but…this could be the setting platform, can’t it?

**Rookie**

P.S: I’ll always be here for you if you need me, whether as a friend or just support. Don’t ever forget that _._

 

**►►**

 

Linda is beautiful. There is no argument about it. Her eyes, a charming doe brown framed by long dark lashes; her legs, slender and seemingly could go on for miles when she wore her favorite pairs of high heels; her body, delicately curved in all the right places that Kouyou thought his hands loved to find and trace over – her very essence had been something he favored, and he adored how she felt when he held her. The scent of her perfume was almost intoxicating, and when she sat on his lap, tossing her ringlet curls over her shoulder with lightly lidded eyes before her hands slid up his shoulders and cupped the sides of his neck to lure him in for a kiss…

He loved the intimacy that they created with every bit of him that craved for it.

So long as he didn’t think about who it came from too much.

With each meet and press of their lips a part of Kouyou, deep down inside of him beneath the layers he spent so long creating, hoped that Linda could cater to the odd sensation that felt more like an absent detachment than anything else. It was relentless, even as he watched Linda hitch up the long skirt of her prom dress brought back from L.A just for the event of their school’s winter formal dance and slide atop of his lap, slowly kissing a path up his neck and urging him to unzip her dress for her when his hands found the curve of her hips.

“What do you think?”

Kouyou’s fingers curled into the tulle-like material of the dress bunched atop of his lap; soft, blue and subtly glittery. “It’s gorgeous, Linda.”

Linda smiled against his jawline, tracing her way up to his earlobe with slow kisses and an alluring whisper, “Wait until you watch it come off.”

And cater, she did. With each newfound expose of skin that was granted to the roaming caress of his hands the moment he found the zipper to pull down, Kouyou lost himself to her kisses, the tangle of her fingers inside his hair and focused on the inviting shift of her body that sat atop of his lap. It had been far too long since the last time they had done anything like this. They needed this catch-up a lot more than he had thought. The atmosphere was perfect this time, the timing flawless, if not better, just as it had been at the party they last attended, and Kouyou could finally focus without alcohol-muddled thoughts cutting inappropriately into his train of thought – lack thereof – he fought to be free of.

Clothes were shed as they shifted positions on the sofa, a breathy moan of anticipation and want filled the air between them as hooded brown eyes looked up at him when his fingers slid dampened lace panties down the length of legs that spread readily for him, and Kouyou found blind freedom caged in the arms that held him as he  slid down, down, down… and his face buried between the warmth of her thighs that framed his head as his kisses found somewhere else to lavish beneath all the tulle and glimmer.

No matter of how momentary it was, the world felt as if it had finally stopped spinning and his thoughts ceased to ponder over trivial matters. There was no prominent sense of missing the words of a boy he had no face to place a name to except his words on a screen that made something in his stomach twist every time he sought out the familiarity of his e-mail address in his inbox. In the throes of breathtaking pleasure it was so easy to miss the vibrating buzz of his phone not too far away from him on the carpeted floor in the pocket of his jeans when caught up in the chase for his own pleasure, the sounds that Linda made close his ear in his sole effort to keep his face buried into the crook of her neck. It was so easy to let the carefree winds of not thinking take control and chase after his mysterious pen pal inappropriately once more. So easy to imagine narrower hips; ignore the sensual curves of Linda’s body he clung to and the press of full breasts against his chest. What would it feel like, he wondered distantly in his haze of pleasure as Linda pulled him in for a kiss, to make a guy come?

What would it be like if it were Rookie underneath him gasping into his mouth instead? Clinging, writhing, and grabbing onto his hair a little too tightly when he’d be so _close_ to-

A sharp gasp shakily wrangled from his lips, cutting between a lustful groan, and he couldn’t tell whether it was out of startle over the rush of intense arousal that seared through him and whisked him higher or not. He felt overwhelmingly lightheaded, even more desperate, Linda’s cry of reached release distant over the sound of blood rushing into his ears and successfully drowning it out as his hips snapped forward repetitively. His body tensed and hips jerked in small thrusts with the foggy yet vivid thought that it was Rookie that he fucked into thoroughly through his orgasm, breathing hard and fast and holding on to as he trembled with a moan he muffled against a cheek. For a moment, the world ceased to exist, his thoughts a canvas wiped clean as his hips slowly grinded into the moaning mess of a trembling body beneath him to help ease him back down. And when he settled, tired limbs giving out to rest into the arms that welcomed and held him close with a hand carding through his damp locks, he was only reminded that everything was far too temporary for his liking.

The lingering buzz of pleasure gave way for something much more unforgiving. It was relentless, persistent to not let him swallow anything else but the hard hitting truth: he had gotten off and came harder than he could ever recall to the thought of his pen pal rather than his girlfriend that hummed drowsily close to his ear as she stroked his damp fringe  back from his forehead, and there was not an inch of alcohol in his system nor in sight to place blame on for it. The sinking realization lodged stubbornly in the middle of his throat, sunk to the very depths of his stomach, and all Kouyou could do was close his eyes against it.

Sleep did not come easy to him that night – or morning, depending on how technical anyone wanted to be. He surreptitiously eased himself off of Linda to dispose of his condom and clean himself up a bit, only to slowly slip back on his clothes in resigned silence. As much as staying the entire weekend ‘catching up’ sounded nice – or should have – Kouyou just…couldn’t. Carefully getting Linda out of her dress and carrying her to her bedroom to tuck her properly into bed was all he had the heart to do. After pressing a soft, fleeting kiss to her forehead he made his way downstairs and silently took his leave, making sure to lock the front door behind him with the spare key Linda had given him; thoughts full and a discomfort in the pit of his stomach.

The bus ride home granted him a moment of reprieve. The cool glass of the window he gently pressed his forehead to felt soothing and brought him ease as he closed his eyes to revel in the silence, despite the soft rumbling of the engine cutting into it, granted to him and ignore his faint reflection that had looked back at him with tired eyes; ignoring the blur of color and lights that passed him by. And, yet, he couldn’t help but loathe it. Silence only paved paths for his mind to linger on what had transpired, forced him to acknowledge the knot of unease and brewing nausea in his stomach that came with it as his eyes whelmed with damp warmth behind his closed eyelids. It wasn’t supposed to be this way.

Of all things to ever occur, feeling disgusted with himself after sex with his girlfriend was _not_ how it was supposed to be. When he reached home, he had forgone buzzing for entry and he gripped the iron railings of the eight-foot fence that barred the rest of the long driveway from his entrance and sluggishly scaled it. The wintry wind bit into his skin and colored his cheeks rosy as his fingers clung to the lapels of his jacket to lock in as much warmth as he could until he quietly made his way inside his home at long last. He took the stairs two steps at a time, ignoring the passing reflection that was fleeting in the golden frame of the massive foyer mirror with the painstaking desire to rid himself of his clothes and shower; to scrub himself clean until there was nothing left of Linda’s scent and the ghost memory of her breath billowing against the skin of his neck; her kisses at his lips with the lingering thought of doe brown eyes he wished had been looking up from beneath him belonged to-

Beneath the shower head of his shower where Kouyou turned the knob as far left as it would go, allowing the water to sear his body, he scrubbed harder.

It had felt like an eternity, standing in his shower. The nausea, luckily, had faded with time and Kouyou found a self-satisfying sensation in how exhausted his limbs felt. It was only a matter of time before he would grow too tired to loop himself in a never ending cycle of thoughts and analyzing the rather empty feeling that now replaced his earlier disgust. As he slipped on a shirt over his head and adjusted it with a small tug at the hem, Kouyou tiredly flopped on his bed with a low grunt after retrieving his phone from his jeans pocket to rest over the top of his nightstand. Sleep would have been his saving grace – he knew that more than anything- but he couldn’t quite yet; not with the feeling that he was forgetting something gnawing at him.

Peering open an eye, Kouyou turned his head just enough to peek from his buried place into a pillow and glanced over at his cellphone. Checking his e-mail was the _last_ thing he knew he should be doing, but he couldn’t help himself. Had Rookie e-mailed him back? What if he didn’t, after what he told him? Kouyou’s stomach twisted uncomfortably at the train of thought and his fingers curled into the sheets of his bed with worry. Would he treat him any differently? Would he…stop talking to him?

“Fucking stop it already.” Kouyou chided tightly to himself under his breath with a huff. What nervous fret clung to him was tossed to the winds the moment he forced himself to reach over and snatch his phone off his nightstand, unlocking it with a swipe of his thumb across the screen. He ignored the junk mail that clustered his inbox the moment he tapped on the mail icon app, scrolled down with upward flicks of his thumb with searching eyes and-

There was his e-mail address, bolded to show he had e-mailed him just four hours ago.

“Holy shit,” he sighed heavily in relief. His head lulled back with a soft _thump_ when landing on his pillow the moment he rolled to rest on his back, allowing himself to relish in his relief as it rolled over him like a soothing wave, before taping on the email itself. His eyes soaked in every word as he read like a starved man deprived of water and finally getting it with a genuine bubble of laughter on his lips, despite how subtly shaky it was, and he couldn’t care less about it or the fact that his cheeks began to hurt from smiling so much. He didn't give a damn that his face felt far too warm with a blush that would not go away any time soon, because In that moment, his trivial troubles had not mattered. Rookie accepted him. Not only did he accept him, but shared a secret – if it even was – of his own that made his stomach flutter with a surge of something he couldn't comprehend even if he tried. The full, realization of their exchange of trust made him draw in a steady breath in his attempt to sooth the flutters in his stomach.

“I want to get to know you,” he murmured wistfully, resting the face of his phone against his lips as his eyes closed, “I _want_ to know you.” Without wasting another moment longer, he prepared himself to write his reply at long last.

 **I’m sorry. Let me make it up to you?  
  
** From: [newyorkminute@live.com](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=mailto%3Anewyorkminute%40live.com&t=MmE2NWRjMTY5NGU5OWYwODIwOTA3ZGZkMjNhYzRlYTY3NGEzZTViMSwxRGxGY1F0Mg%3D%3D&b=t%3Az1jlnJPC-wfvRAGhAPUqjg&p=http%3A%2F%2Furuhaxrukifanfics.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F150574706626%2Ftitle-only-you-pairing-uruki-uruha-x-ruki-and&m=1)    
To: [Fadless_Beauty@hotmail.com](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=mailto%3AFadles_Beauty%40hotmail.com&t=ZTU0MjFjMTk0NWQ0ODEzMmNmZWQ4NWMzM2MyODJlMzZhYTM3NWVlMiwxRGxGY1F0Mg%3D%3D&b=t%3Az1jlnJPC-wfvRAGhAPUqjg&p=http%3A%2F%2Furuhaxrukifanfics.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F150574706626%2Ftitle-only-you-pairing-uruki-uruha-x-ruki-and&m=1)  
         _Saturday, December 13, 2013 5:55 AM_

Y _ou can’t, dipshit. This is for a grade, remember? Looks like you’ll have to put up with me for another two weeks, and then we’ll call it quits._

_Lol shut up, Rookie. Jesus. If you must know, yeah. Ass is nice to look at and grab. I haven’t tried kissing ass legitimately, but I’ll make sure to fill you in when I do. You know, no judgement and whatnot. You’re the best. I’m glad you’re comfortable with us having this kind of discussion already._

_How about_ you _stop. I may not have to, but I actually want to. I want to do it, and I want to get to know you. You… I don’t know how to explain it, but you make me want to get to know you more, if you’d let me. I’m in this assignment 100% - and no, not because of this being a grade. Fuck the grade. This isn't about the grade anymore. The grade's nice, yeah, but I genuinely want to know you, and I want to help get that camera for you. So let me. I'm not going to sit here and argue over this with you. I’d hate for our first argument to be over something so small as a gift, jhc. Take the gift, Rookie._

_Ahahha, what? Wait a minute. Before I acknowledge and apologize for taking so long to reply (again), I’d hate to act like I looked over the fact that you are kind of inviting me out for a future date; especially since you’re saying I’m paying. I don’t drink coffee, but dinner is always a go in my book. And for the record, I’m glad I made you smile. It’s the least I can do, but I like knowing I made you smile._

_Of course you help. It’s why you’re amazing to me (I know; I know)._

_You’re…right, I guess. No, really, you are. You have a point, and I’ll do it. I will, for you. Promise._

_How would you know I’m attractive when you’re not even sure what I look like? I may not have seen you – or maybe I have, I don’t know – but I’m more than sure you may be easy on the eyes. Why? Are you... seeing anyone? Situation's complicated?_

_Yeah... Yeah, I'm asking you out. Make me an exception, and I'll do my best to not make you regret it. I’ll take you out somewhere nice, or we can just chill. Wherever you wanna go. You won’t regret it. (For my sake? Why? Has it ever occurred to you that maybe I’m just naturally be a charming person? ...I know, awkward hippo)_

_God, I don’t know how you do it, but you make everything feel a little easier to swallow; like it isn’t so hard and suffocating. I’m not trying to be sappy, but you just- I don’t know how to explain it. I’m relieved – happy, even - that this doesn’t change anything between us. I’d hate to lose a chance at friendship with you due to something like…this. It’s one of the things that scares me the most, but you make me feel as if I can trust you and tell you anything, and I’m glad that the feeling is mutual. I don’t know anyone else that’s gay, personally - except for maybe one person - but I’m just relieved._  


Kouyou snorted under his breath and rolled his eyes. So much for trying not to be sappy.  
  


_Because it’s you, I’m going to overlook the fact that you are kind of cheating and accept it anyway. But shit, that’s a loaded question. Where was this guy- I mean, I don’t like him. At least, I don’t think I do. I just- It's kind of complicated.  Anyway, I may have kissed him, and…liked it. A lot. I think what unnerves me the most is when I randomly think about it and I find myself wanting it again, despite everything else. And when I was having sex with this girl, I wasn’t even thinking about her. I couldn’t help but think about what it would be like if it were y-_

He bit his lower lip as his thumbs came to a sudden halt, a sense of unease creeping back upon him as a flush of heat gently kissed up his neck. After a moment of contemplating whether he should even share that tidbit of information, he pressed down hard on the screen of his phone, swiftly correcting himself.

 

_I couldn’t help thinking about what would it be like if it were with a guy, and it was... I actually got off, and it felt... Well, I don’t know how to feel. This is all new to me. No one has caught my eye, though. It’s just…yeah, that._

_Yours,_

_**ÆTIUS** _

_P.S: The same goes for you, too. I won’t forget as long as you don’t. Even if you did, something tells me I’ll still be here regardless. I care about you._

 

►►

It was expected that Linda would be bummed about not spending the weekend together, but Kouyou genuinely had an excuse. The weekend brought forth his parents flying overseas to visit relatives and a pit-stop with some form of business. It was only right that he stuck around to help them pack and assure that he would keep to his word of being on his best behavior and keep watch over home while they were away. His father was in a surprisingly good enough mood to let him borrow his car for a few errands, and the feeling of being behind the steering wheel, not needing to rely on a bus schedule or suffer through the spoiled cries of infant children was absolute bliss. The weekend had nearly been just enough to take his mind off of things until Monday rolled back around.

It wasn’t much, but it was something. His dad’s good mood lasted long enough for him to entrust the keys to his second car – a 2014 Maserati Quattroporte that Kouyou always wanted to take off his hands the moment his old man got it – in Kouyou’s care once beckoning him to his office before they were due to part for the airpirt, making him promise not to wreck it as well, and certainly not let Yuu behind the wheel anytime soon; just until they returned and, if he were lucky enough, the repairs to his Porsche were done. There had been no assessing look, no chilled gaze of disapproval, and in that moment he felt he could breathe just a little easier. Monday’s arrival only reminded him that he still had detention to serve out for another week right before basketball practice, but that hadn’t mattered much to him. The time would tick by, he and Yuu could visit their favorite sports bar to watch a game over dinner – and not stand in the cold freezing their balls off waiting for a bus.

However, all of those superficial things seemed to cave in on itself the moment he looked up from his phone, skillfully hidden behind an opened, propped text book, at the sound of a whine in protest from the door as it was opened. The reserved classroom for detention was empty save for Kouyou and the teacher proctoring shut the door to seal their fate once beckoning for Takanori to come further inside and take a seat. Despite how warm he felt the nape of his neck grow Kouyou, much to his own surprise, was not the first to avert his gaze. Their eyes remained locked on each other even as Takanori walked in slowly with intentions to sit at the opposite side of the room in a desk that was much closer to the back. Kouyou, as he took in a steady breath through his nostrils, gently pushed his backpack off a neighboring desk beside him; gving his invitation for the other boy to sit next to him. He watched as Takanori paused, read the frown that weighed his eyebrows for what it truly was, and tried his hardest not to watch the way he absently worried the metal of his lip ring; his slender fingers tightening a tad around the strap of his backpack.

Eventually, Takanori slowly crossed the room to take his offer. When he sat, Kouyou allowed his eyes to focus on the screen of his phone despite the fact that he wasn’t actually looking at it. He felt nervous, hesitant, yet so sure and all too aware of a vanilla and coffee bean scent mixed with something else that wafted from the boy that sat beside him. It made him feel odd in a way he wasn’t sure whether he liked it or not. The last thing he needed was to be seen making nice with Takanori, but they were in a class room with no one else to witness beside a tired teacher that could care less about anything else now that she’d whipped out her magazine to help pass the time. So, once taking a slow, deep breath to steady himself, he chanced a glance in Takanori’s direction just in time to catch him readying to part his lips to form a question that was more than evident in the air that resided heavily between them.

“Last week, you said I could come to you if I needed to,”Kouyou said, passing a hand through his hair and fleetingly lowering his gaze the moment his tone lowered to a mere, soft husk. “That offer still up for the taking? Because I… I really need you right about now.”

Kouyou didn’t plead, and he didn’t intend to start with Takanori of all people. But perhaps he didn’t have to. Takanori’s gaze regarded him far longer than Kouyou anticipated and, for a moment, it was only fair to think that he’d turn him down. It’d only be fair. Hell, Kouyou would have done the same if the roles were different. They had too many years of bullshit between them, yet here he was, expecting an ear, some form of relief or clarity- something. It was best to simply tell him to forget he ever asked, to stick his nose back to his cell phone and check if Rookie may have written him back yet-

Takanori, at long last, exhaled a soft sigh before turning in his seat to rummage through his backpack, pulling out a notebook and World Literature text book. He kept the latter to himself, and gently sat the notebook on Kouyou’s desk before reaching to pluck a pen from its placedment tucked behind his ear and hold it out for Kouyou to take.

“The offer never left,” Takanori shrugged, a ghost of a small smirk toying at the corner of his lips. “Talk to me. I’m all yours for the next hour.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"What did you think you'd find out when you came to me?"_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Omg, I honestly can't believe I can actually say that here's the awaited, long overdue chapter of OY! It feels good to say, all in all. I won't hold anyone up any longer than I have lol. I just want to say thank you again for those whom've waited so patiently for me, and new readers: thank you so much for joining along! Thank you, from the very bottom of my heart, for the kudos and reviews. I can only hope this was worth the wait, in some way or other. With that being said, enjoy!♡

Kouyou regarded the pen Takanori held out to him. He knew that the moment he took it, he was sealing his fate. There was no turning back. But how could he? He was desperate with nowhere else to turn to, no one else to confide in, other than the boy whom regarded him with what patience he could muster. Why was he so hesitant?  

Why, for fuck's sake, could he not take the goddamn pen?  

"You don't want to talk."  Takanori's eyebrows furrowed in a pinched frown of confusion as Kouyou tensed in his seat, worrying the plush of his lower lip and the gleam of silver that twinkled off the lip ring Kouyou tried his best not to stare at for too long as the florescent light reflected off of it just right, in that fleeting moment. What was with him and his oral fixation? 

"No– I mean, yes. _Yes_ ," Kouyou resisted the urge to drag his hands down his face. Instead, he settled for his fingers finding purchase at the nape of his neck and squeezed after kindly returning the notebook that was given to him. "I want to talk. Just... not here. Not like this." A pen and paper wasn't going to cut it. What he wanted to say, needed to get out, just didn't seem appropriate for a scribble of tossed notes that held a highly risked potential of landing in the hands of the teacher. Sure, she may have looked more engrossed in reading the latest celebrity gossip than brownnosing in the business of the only teens keeping Detention Hall nice and warm with their newly developed bud-ship, but he didn't want to... he just needed time. A lot more than what detention would give him.  

The matter at hand was that Kouyou hoped Takanori understood and could find the tiniest fraction of mercy and time to spare him the excruciatingly embarrassing act of actually begging for it. 

Seconds felt to drag on for minutes like a stretch of eternity as Takanori looked at him, and Kouyou let him. He let him pick and gauge him, the weight of judgment evident in the air between them without averting his gaze anywhere else; standing his ground of surety. The ball was in Takanori's court and Kouyou didn't know whether he'd leave it or pick it up and run with it. The possibilities were endless. 

In the end, it was Takanori that broke the contemplative air with a deep sigh and shrugged his shoulders, retracting the pen and tucking it behind his ear. "Don't you have practice after this?" 

"Yeah..." It had been an afterthought Kouyou hadn't given much attention to until now, if he were being honest with himself. "Afterwards, then. You free around the time I'll be finished?" 

"Depends. Are you willing to drive me home after... you know," Takanori proposed, gesturing to the other teen's request with a halfhearted wave of his hand, "if you can?" 

How could Kouyou decline? It was a small fraction of a price he had to pay in return for Takanori to willingly give him his time and spare him the embarrassment of begging. Kouyou cringed internally. What did that say about his sense of character had the shoe been on the other foot? If he were in Takanori's place, he probably wouldn't have given himself the time of day. Hell, he knew he wouldn't have.  

"It's the least I can do."  

The pair fell into a comfortable silence of their own after mutually agreeing to their set plan and trade. At times, Kouyou found himself looking to the aid of his peripheral to watch Takanori absently tuck a dark lock of hair behind his ear, his teeth worry the metal piercing at his lip as he scribbled something into the notebook that had once been offered to him. When it seemed as if Takanori knew he was watching him – judging by the stilled pause of his scribbles – Kouyou forced himself to ignore the blush that brought color to the nape of his neck and the tips of his ears as he turned his attention back to his phone with a clear of his throat.   

He missed the amused quirk of Takanori's eyebrow.  

Not another word had been exchanged nor a glance chanced. There was enough time in between to feel a little put off when there wasn't a new email from Rookie to read. Had he laid things on too thick in his last e-mail? Just the memory of what he said had Kouyou wanting to take it all back, but even if he could there was a chance he probably wouldn't. The comfort and ease he felt to express the thoughts he dared not share with anyone else was real.  He meant every word in every response he sent. Rookie made him want to spill himself and further indulge the safety net Rookie gave him, the same way Takanori was offering to him. The only difference was that Rookie wasn't there, and Takanori...  

He didn't know what Takanori was. For as long as he could remember Takanori was nothing more than a pain in his ass, a silent rivalry made known when it came to test scores to see whom could score highest for whatever shared classes they happened to be damned to share together. He never had to question the dynamic between them when it was already a given. They each had their own place, drawing lines in the sand under some silently set, established rules to never cross, and Kouyou had no desire to do that. For the longest time he had been comfortable in the pink bubble that had once encased him. 

These waters beyond the line in the sand he was intending to step out into were uncharted. There was no set instruction, no guide book to assist him in working around the nerves making a home in his stomach, and he had no other choice but to take the only resource he had close for guidance. The only resource that was willing to help him, one way or the other. The very source from across the line in the sand. 

Time dragged by as slow as it possibly could, and once detention was over the teacher was practically the first to leave before Kouyou could properly stand to gather his belongings. As he shouldered the strap of his backpack his gaze met Takanori's whilst the other boy remained rooted in his seat, lazily peering up at him from beneath long eyelashes. 

"Here," After a moment of consideration and momentary hesitation, Kouyou fished for the ring of car keys in his pocket to hand to Takanori. "Just in case you want to wait in the car or something. It'll be a little while before I surface back out after practice, but something tells me you aren't going to want to linger around here any longer than you have to." 

"Wait," Takanori frowned. "you're actually going to drive?"  

" _Yeah..._ " Kouyou said slowly. "How else did you think we were going to do this?" 

"The subway's right there. I'm not complaining or anything, but parking fee is going to be a bitch, let alone parking anywhere else in this goddamn city, if you intend to drive anywhere else." 

"It's fine," Kouyou said as he dismissively shook his head, tossing the keys in Takanori's direction when the other boy made no move to take them from him. "Don't worry about that. Let me worry about it." He was the one asking of Takanori's time. Worrying about any form of parking fee was the least he could do. "Wait in the car, keep warm. It'll be another hour or so until I'm finished, but, while I'm busy, you can think about where we should eat for dinner." 

In that moment, Kouyou could blame anything for his reason to not meet Takanori's gaze. But perhaps it was the blush that tried to make its way known from the length of his neck to the rounds of his cheeks that he didn't want Takanori to see. Or rather he didn't want to see the expression that Takanori may be regarding him with. Either way, it didn't matter. In the end, it was Takanori that huffed out an incoherent mumble that Kouyou couldn't make sense of before he felt his mobile snatched from his hand. Kouyou's mouth opened, ready to take back his phone with an unforgiving sharpness, but the words halted right on the tip of his tongue as he watched Takanori punch in numbers with a frown of concentration. Were the tips of his ears red, too? 

"What are you doing?" Kouyou asked, yet Takanori simply said nothing; opting to take out his own mobile device and focus his attention on the screen until he a pleased gleam radiated in his dark eyes. 

"Putting in my phone number," Takanori said while shrugging his shoulders, gently tossing Kouyou back his device before gathering up his belongings to take his leave first. Before he crossed the threshold of the classroom's door he stopped, and opted to turn just enough to look over his shoulder back at Kouyou where the boy knew he looked as dumbfounded as he felt. "How else am I gonna ask you what you want to eat while I'm sitting in your car?" 

The offer didn't mean much of anything. It was only common sense to offer Takanori an invitation to dinner with him when he had no intention of eating dinner in front of him while the other boy simply sat and watched. But it was the way how it sounded in his mind's ears, the way Takanori's cheeks seemed to have a touch of color to them and the simple knowledge that he had took it upon himself to add his number in his phone that baffled him and rooted him right where he stood, even when Takanori had left his line of vision.  

He was distracted and he knew it. His head was nowhere in the range of practice, and Yuu's perplexed looks from time to time weren't enough to jar him out of his own head for too long. His phone was burning a hole in the depths of his varsity jacket with the knowledge of knowing Takanori's phone number was sitting in his library of contacts, and the gesture of how it got there hadn't left the captivity of his thoughts no matter how hard he pushed himself, how breathless from exertion he became. Forcing himself to believe his nerves were all over the place because he was secretly hoarding a certain outcast in his car worked for only but so long until it he was standing outside his gym locker preparing for a prolonged shower with a towel draped low over his hips, checking the text message he received forty-five minutes ago from a contact labeled 'Queer Eye'. 

 _'We should g_ _o_ _to_ _Shake Shack in Madison Square Park_ _. Y/N?_ _'_  

Looking over his shoulder at the last few teammates that were trickling out of the locker room, he punched out a quick response: 

' _Y._ _Be out in 15._ '  

A minute barely managed to creep past when Kouyou's phone vibrated almost immediately with a returned reply. 

' _K good,_ _bc_ _I'm starving. Hurry up_!' 

Kouyou snorted and rolled his eyes, yet as he shoved his phone back into the pocket of his jacket a crooked smile snuck up to quirk a corner of his lips. 

"Yuu!" He called out to his friend in question that peeked his head up from a group-huddled conversation near the shower stalls, his messy, dark bun bouncing in motion atop of his head. "Push back our dinner at the pub for tomorrow? It's a no-go tonight. Something came up."   
 

 **►►**  

Shake Shack on a Monday night was, to Kouyou and Takanori's surprise, a bustling buzz – even on a cold night such as this. Despite being brave enough to tough out the cold with damp hair (idiotic as it was, much to Takanori's strongly voiced opinion that wouldn't leave him be) he didn't have the gall to sit out in it to eat, so they decided to brave the weather together, order their food, and eat in the warm safety of Kouyou's car afterwards.  

As they stood in line waiting to order, Takanori took the liberty of pulling off his beanie hat to hold out to Kouyou, his gaze trained somewhere over his shoulder.  

"You need it more than I do," Takanori said with a shrug of his shoulders. "the last thing I need is being the reason why the team's captain can't be put on the court due to a head cold. Even if it's his fault for walking out with wet hair in the first place."   

Kouyou whistled lowly, feigning flatter. "I didn't know you cared about me that much. I'm flattered, truly." The look that crossed Takanori's countenance was stuck between a frown and crinkle of disgust, and the bubble of laughter was faster to surface out into the crisp air before he could stop himself as he adjusted the beanie atop of his head. It must have been contagious one way or the other, because Takanori bit his lower lip to smother what chortle could join it. He was too late, though. Kouyou had heard it. Any means of commenting about it was snubbed out under the jab Takanori gave him with his elbow as he shoved his hands into the pockets of his winter coat. 

"When pigs fly, Shima. When pigs fly." 

This time, Kouyou didn't miss the way Takanori's eyes flickered back to admire how his beanie hat looked on the taller teen.  

When it was their turn to order once reaching the counter they voiced their orders, Kouyou letting Takanori go ahead of him. Each ordered a double cheese burger, minus fries from the shorter teen's order, but Kouyou figured they could share if the tantalizing smell won over Takanori's tastebuds to indulge. However, when the waitress asked if they were separately paying or together, Kouyou simply chose the latter before Takanori could open his mouth, freezing in his endeavor of fishing out his wallet. 

"Separate." Takanori objected in correction. Kouyou frowned. 

"Together," Kouoyu said, equally meeting the shorter teen's warning glare. "We're together." Handing over his form of payment, he absently returned the nudge Takanori gave him in his attempt to stop him. "Jesus, Taka, it's fine. It's just a burger. Take it." 

"It's not about the burger, it's–" Takanori cut himself short, crinkling his nose as he shook his head, averting his gaze. For a moment, Kouyou wondered if the other boy's cheeks were as rosy as they were earlier. "I'll pay you back." 

"The fuck you will." Kouyou plastered on a small smile for the woman behind the counter as he took the receipt handed to him before the two drifted aside to wait for their order.  "I don't want your _money_." 

"And I don't want to feel like I owe you anything at the end of this." 

Kouyou couldn't tell if Takanori was just being stubborn out of spite, or if he was naturally like this. Either way, this wasn't going to get them anywhere if Kouyou played right into an argument before anything could get off the ground. He could agree and tell Takanori to go back and order his own damn food himself, and he'd happily take the extra burger off his hands since he didn't want anything Kouyou payed for. Better yet, he could tell him to go home and get there the best way he could; that he was stupid to ask Takanori for anything and that this entire thing was just a mistake. It would be so easy, and yet... 

"It's the least I can do." Kouyou said lowly after inhaling slowly through his nostrils and exhaling through parted lips in a heavy sigh. "So, let me. I don't want your money. I don't want anything from you, but your time. Okay?" 

The surefire urge to voice rebuttal was right there – Kouyou could see it ready on the tip of Takanori tongue as his eyebrows furrowed, his arms fold across his chest, his teeth worry the metal of his lip ring that his eyes couldn't resist flickering to look at. Just for a second. It was a second of a slipup that made something in Takanori's eyes soften just the slightest before he nodded stiffly, slow and purposely dragged out.  

"I'm buying dessert." 

So, Takanori's naturally stubborn. That was okay. It was more than worth the relieved sigh Kouyou didn't know he was holding in until he found himself returning the small, crooked smile Taknaori gave him with a tiny, husked exhale that sounded like a chuckle that was more contagious than Kouyou could have knew. 

"I like dessert. Even better when it's free." 

As the pair waited for their order, rosy pink noses sniffling in the wintry breeze that caressed their cheeks, Kouyou didn't say a word as their arms brushed against one another in the closer proximity they stepped in to stand together in. Two bodies of body heat were better than one. 

It wasn't long before their number was called. The pair huddled back to the counter to take their neatly bagged dinner after Takanori placed in an added order of two frozen, flavored custards – paying, as promised – before retreating back into the warm captivity of Kouyou's car. Kouyou cranked up the heater as Takanori distributed their orders, placing aside the dessert for later if they'd have enough room for it afterwards.  Kouyou was more than sure they would. 

The two ate in silence. They must have been hungrier than they’d realized, not bothering to share a sound of word between bites except pleased sighs through nostrils and the occasional hum of response when Kouyou offered Takanori a few of his fries. He smirked, smug and all knowing. He knew Takanori would want some one way or the other. The other boy must have sensed his thoughts, because the somewhat rough jab he received to his side with an elbow was enough to make Kouyou snigger around his mouthful and greedy sips he took from his soda.  

"That's theft. I thought you said you didn't want any fries." 

"I didn't want fries of _my own_. That doesn't mean I didn't want some of yours." 

And Takanori was still popping them back, one at a time, as if they were his very own. "Too bad. You should have gotten your own." Kouyou didn't have the heart to stop him.  

By the time they were finished, Kouyou settled to rest in his seat with a content sigh. He was full – getting there, at least. Takanori's pace had slowed much earlier, leading him to believe that the boy didn't have much of a big stomach despite how famished he claimed to be. However, much to Kouyou's surprise, Takanori had managed to finish just about all of his food and was making a very slow climb in digging into his own respective frozen custard. They had long removed their coats in favor of making themselves comfortable, the steady stream of music filtering from the radio play lowly nothing more but background noise as he watched Takanori eat. 

It didn't particularly hit Kouyou that he hadn't discussed what he asked Takanori's time for in the first place until Takanori met his gaze, lips pausing around the phallic shaped spoon inside his mouth after scooping up a good amount of his melting dessert. It wasn't that he didn't want to, because he did. He wanted some form of guidance, answers to questions he didn't know how to voice without sounding so stupid, insensitive (which was a first, considering the person he was looking to). There wasn't a map he could look to in search of where to start, but perhaps he didn't have to.  

"The first guy I kissed was one of my best friends," Takanori said suddenly to feel the lull between them after removing the plastic spoon from his mouth. "Akira Suzuki. You remember him, right? The kid from our middle school that–" 

"Got his tongue stuck on the lamp post like a dumbass because of some stupid dare." They both fell into a reminiscent bubble of laughter as they shook their heads. Of course Kouyou remembered Akira. How couldn't he? Yuu was forever, but once upon a time Akira had been his friend, too. Growing pains and fitting into places the other didn't fit in made things complicated, they fell out over something Kouyou could barely recall – something stupid and childish – but he could remember the last argument they had; the swollen knuckles and black eye he sported that he returned in full with being responsible for breaking Akira's nose. They hadn't talked to each other since, but Kouyou remembered. He could never forget Akira. No matter how much their paths split long ago. 

"Yeah," Kouyou murmured softly with a tiny smile, "Yeah, I remember him." It truly was a small world. He wouldn't have painted Akira to... well, he wouldn't have painted himself much in the same image, but here he was. "You kissed him?" 

"What? What's with that face? It was a heat of the moment thing!" Takanori defended.  

"I'm not making a face! I'm just..." Okay, maybe he was kind of making a face, but that was beside the point. "surprised, is all. I wouldn't have thought your taste runs in his direction." 

"There's nothing wrong with him. I prefer older men, if we're being honest." Taking a drink of his soda was the worst possible timing. Kouyou sputtered, coughing with a suddenness when his drink decided to go down the wrong passage on the way down. If Takanori cared that he had almost killed a man in his very own car, he made no sign of showing it. "But the point that I was trying to make was: it wasn't intentional. I wasn't expecting my first kiss to be with him, and it wasn't awkward It was more of a dawning realization. There I was, playing Seven Minutes in Heaven and stuck in a closet with Akira during a slumber party, making out with him, and it just...made sense. I liked at that time, don't get me wrong. But when I kissed him, it–" his gaze softened as he recalled the memory with a small, soft smile Kouyou couldn't help but admire even as it fell to make way for a more concentrated, more determined expression as Takanori shifted in the passenger seat to face him more. 

"It answered questions I had for myself that I was afraid to ask anyone else. I'm not telling you to go out there and kiss the nearest guy to find an epiphany or anything. It's evident that that's the last thing on your list right now." Takanori studied him, his eyebrows furrowing softly. "Evident that this scares you." 

"I'm not scared." Kouyou interjected stiffly with a warning, pointed gaze; defensive.  

"Then what are you?" It didn't faze Takanori one bit. Takanori didn't let up and he pressed, meeting his pointed gaze equally. "Hmm? What did you think you'd find out when you came to me – of all people? What is it that you want?"  

Kouyou faltered. There it was – the question of the hour. What exactly did Kouyou want? There was nothing he could say that wouldn't force him out of his comfort zone. What he wanted was just outside of his reach, beyond the unquestioning glow of a bubblegum pink, shielded world that was his life. What he wanted didn't have a name to a face and sat somewhere in his inbox waiting to be read. What he wanted played in a loop inside his head so unforgivingly over, and over, and over, he thought it would drive him mad. What _he_ wanted? _That_ was what he was afraid of, and all that came with it. He wasn't ready to voice it, but it was there. He could taste it on the flat of his tongue, feel it catch in the middle of his throat every time he caught a gleam of Takanori's lip ring in the illuminated dark of his car. 

What he wanted... 

A deep sigh filtered from Takanori's nostrils, an apologetic glint shimmering in his dark eyes. The air was thick with anticipation and hope for an answer to be met, but all that Kouyou could give was a tensed jaw as he forced himself to look out of his window as a couple walked pass to cross the street.  

After a moment of stagnated silence Kouyou could hear shifting beside him before the passenger door clicked open, inviting a gust of cold air to rush in, stealing the warmth they had. 

"What the fuck?" Kouyou shivered involuntarily, making a grab to snatch up his varsity jacket from the backseat where he tossed it earlier. "What are you doing?" 

"What does it look like I'm doing? Get out the car," Takanori said, shrugging back on his winter jacket after setting aside his half-eaten dessert. "I want to show you something." When Kouyou made no attempt of moving, he huffed. "C'mon, get the fuck out! It's not that far, I promise." 

"...Jesus Christ." With a begrudging groan Kouyou forced himself out of his own car after shutting off the engine – his dad's comfortable, _warm_ car that had food and a melting dessert, mind – to do as Takanori requested and lock the vehicle behind them, jogging a tad to catch up with the shorter teen, tugging the borrowed beanie over his hair a little more so it covered his ears. "Where are we going?" 

"If I told you, it wouldn't be a surprise, now, would it?"  

"It's too cold for surprises." Kouyou moodily clicked his tongue against his teeth, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jacket. 

"Tough shit. Take it while I'm feeling nice." 

"While you're feeling nice, huh? Pretty fucking rare, ain't it? Maybe I should take it, since you put it that way." This time, Kouyou was ready to dodge the rough elbow-jab aimed for his side. Even if he nearly slipped on a piece of ice while dong so. 

The rich ring of laughter that filled his ears from the boy that reached out to steady him by latching onto arm to hold him upright from busting his ass on the pavement had been worth it.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I ended up splitting this chapter in half, because I felt it would be too much for what I want to build up here. Next chapter is already a work in progress! As stated before, I want to stick to updating weekly this month, so I'll be back then. Until next time!♡


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You know what they say. If it sounds like a duck, looks like a duck…”
> 
> “It isn’t a fucking duck. You’re just a dumbass.”

To a degree, Kouyou was impatient; a walking contradiction. As much as he loved a good surprise every now and again, he also hated being left in the dark about what it could be. But tonight was different. With the fill of crisp winter in his lungs, electric excitement buzzed through his veins, keeping him warm from the inside as he followed Takanori, and he couldn’t pinpoint why. There was weariness in not knowing where they were going, what could possibly have Takanori determined to be so elusive whenever he questioned him for what felt to be the umpteenth time, sure. But the last time Kouyou felt like this was when he and Yuu snuck into movie theaters without paying at the age of twelve.

“Just wait.” Taknaori dismissively swatted him, careful to not nudge him again in possible fear that he’d be responsible if Kouyou injured himself when the school’s basketball team needed him the most. So, Kouyou did, closely following the shorter teen whom knew the route they walked in by heart without so much a batted eyelash of hesitation. Eventually, they approached a shop – Sea of Ink, Takanori mentioned – that was dark from the outside with a metal casing locked shut over the door. Kouyou faltered, falling behind with a confused frown weighing at his eyebrows.

“What are you…” Kouyou trailed off, and he watched Takanori fish for a ring of keys out of his pocket, as if it were normal to walk around with a ring of keys to an establishment that was closed off to the public for the night and trespass. But it wasn’t trespassing if Takanori knew which key to use to unlock the metal casing and slide it up with a little grunt and use another to unlock the door. Right?

“You comin’ in or not?”

Sea of Ink was a tattoo parlor with sleek black couches and two chairs positioned around a knee-height table the moment you walked in, brought into view by lights that flickered just momentarily to illuminate the empty parlor after Takanori walked through the threshold and flicked the switch. Beyond it was a large aquarium full of vibrantly hued fish of all colors. It gave of a sort of “garage” feel to Kouyou, yet still somehow pulled off such a chic, upscale aesthetic.

His eyes took in all that he could see, the silence almost jarring in a space he knew was meant to be busy, filled to the brim with the buzz of iron tattoo machines and chatter of clinents. He was trespassing – they weren’t supposed to be here – and yet, Taknori had no qualms of shrugging off his jacket and carelessly tossing it on the desk as if he’s done it countless times without fail.

“Close the door,” Takanori scolded over his shoulder. “You’re gonna let out all the heat.”

“How did you…” Like a fish out of water Kouyou gaped, despite doing as told, the bite of a rebuttal lost under the weight of sheer awe, newly stirred intrigue and a shit ton of questions reading on the tip of his tongue before following the other boy like a lost pup in unfamiliar surroundings.

“Don’t ask,” Takanori said. “Just sit. Make yourself comfortable,” his onyx gaze gestured to an unoccupied chair at a station he guided them to. “and accept your surprise.” He slid out a tray of earrings from a nearby cabinet and Kouyou’s eyebrows rose, taken aback. There was no way anyone would know how much body jewelry was placed so near; everything was minimalistically organized, impeccably neat and clean with diligent care.

“ _Wait_ ,” Kouyou said firmly, scrambling for bearings that were just out of reach. There was only so much gaping and waiting and questioning Takanori’s patience could handle, it seemed, because the boy huffed, his evident excitement deflating and replaced with annoyance.

“Wait, what?” Taknori frowned with a roll of his eyes, his hand stilling from shifting through the selection of jewelry. “What are we waiting for?”

“I don’t get it. Why are we here? How do you even have a key to this–“ Kouyouy gestured to their surroundings with an absent wave of his hand.  “Aren’t we trespassing? What–“

“Jesus, do you ever shut up?” Takanori leaned forward and braced his hand on the armrest, leaning his weight in to meet Kouyou’s gaze directly, cutting right through Kouyou’s readying retort. “Stop thinking. _Stop_ _talking_ ,” a glint of satisfaction twinkled in those onyx eyes as Kouyou’s jaw snapped shut. “and just… feel this out, alright? Trust me for few minutes. I know, it’s hard. Believe you me, I know. I don’t trust you as far as I can throw you and I’m sure the feeling’s mutual.”

“Oh,” Kouyou snorted. “it is. Trust. But I think you’re overlooking one, very important fact. I probably can throw you. Have you looked at yourself? You’re fucking tiny.”

“You’re missing the point. I wouldn’t _let you_ , so that settles it.” A cracked grin was contagious enough to trickle in shared snickers and create a warmth in Kouyou’s chest to thaw what remnants of winter remained in his lungs from their trek as it pooled in the lining of his stomach. In the moment, a truce felt to had been called forth, a white flag waved to bring momentary pause to what separated them, the role of their dynamic a blanket made translucent, and Kouyou could see…

He didn’t know what he saw, except the fleeting furrow of Takanori’s eyebrows as his smile dwindled ever so slightly as their shared chuckles simmered down into a silence that didn’t feel so jarring anymore.

“You’ve got to be a bit spontaneous every once in a while, right?” Takanori quirked an eyebrow, and something in Kouyou’s chest stuttered and tripped under the quiet murmur. Strange. Hadn’t someone told him that before, too?

A soft frown momentarily weighed at Kouyou’s eyebrows. “Yeah…” he said slowly, unsure.

“Try to sound a little more enthusiastic, would you? Besides, with you being so curious about my piercings, I thought you might be interested in one of your own.”

“I– What?” Kouyou asked in surprise, eyebrows raising sharply. “When?”

“When?” Takanori parroted. “When you asked me to drive you home from Heather’s. Remember?” Much to Kouyou’s own dismay, he didn’t. He remembered empty umbrella stands and Yuu trashing his car; the smell of Linda’s perfume as he looked across the room with Rookie closer in his thought’s than Linda was as he watched Takanori make out with some guy, want warm in his stomach and mouth burning in jealousy to be kissed the same way by lips that didn’t taste like apricot lip gloss; a migraine, unopened cigarettes, Advil, the delicate curve of Takanori’s back with exposed skin over the waistband of his tight jeans, the tip of Takanori’s tongue caressing the silvery glint of his lip ring under the bleed of streetlights as he drove and Kouyou’s eyes, tired and unfocused and drunk, lingering – staring.

“Kinda,” Kouyou admitted at long last. “The memory’s a touch fuzzy, but I remember enough.” Too much of the wrong thing, if he were to be honest with himself. Luckily, he had that area covered. Not being honest with yourself had its perks.

“Just enough to be interested enough go through with getting a piercing of your own?”

Kouyou arched an eyebrow. “Who’s gonna do it? You?” Takanori smirked and glanced around the empty parlor.

“I don’t see anyone else standin’ here.” The weary expression that crossed Kouyou’s countenance was humoring enough to make the shorter teen buckle under an escaped snicker. “I told you to try and trust me.”

“Why should I? For all I know, you dragged me all the way from the warmth of my car just to give me a botched-up piercing that’ll be infected. Some surprise. I bought you dinner.”

“And you think I’m gonna fuck you over now, of all times? Right after you bought me dinner and all that?”

“I don’t know,” Kouyou said slowly in feigned unsure as he shrugged, folding his arms over his chest as he regarded Takanori with a pointed, suspicious look. “You know what they say. If it sounds like a duck, looks like a duck…”

“It isn’t a fucking duck. You’re just a dumbass.” Takanori argued. “If I wanted to fuck you over, I would have done it ages ago. Hell, I could have let you stand out in the cold without giving you my hat earlier and let you get sick.”

“Ah… So you _did_ care.” Silence.

Kouyou’s eyebrow quirked. Gaping like a fish out of water wasn’t too bad a look on Takanori, either. A bubble of laughter was punched out of him as Takanori turned and shoved the tray he fiddled with earlier into Kouyou’s chest, forcing the jock to take it or else risk picking up the body jewelry that would spill out of it.

“You _wish_ I’d care. Pick, or get up and get the fuck out. I’ll catch the bus home.”

“ _I wish_ you’d stop acting like that and trust me when I say I trust your judgement.” Kouyou caught Takanori’s glare, his crooked smile lingering far longer than it should as mirth colored his cheeks a tad pink. If his cheeks ached from how much he smiled, he hadn’t noticed. Not until he was forced to relax and tilt his head back on a deep exhale through his nostrils when the other teen refused to let up on the moody expression he wore, the silence he seemed so obdurate to uphold No matter how much his response gained a twinge of surprise to make Takanori’s frown dwindle a bit. “C’mon. The public transportation isn’t even running this late. You know that.”

“I can take a taxi.”

“You wanna fight me on this one right now? Is that what we’re doing?” Silence. “I don’t know about you, but I’m not in the mood argue with you. You wanted me to try trusting you, right? Well, this is me trusting you. Hard to believe, I know. Believe you me, I know. It’s hard, but I’m trying.” A tiny quirk of smile, no matter how hard the other boy tried to repress it as he huffed out an incredulous exhale and shook his head, was all Kouyou needed to see to kickstart his own crooked smile as he referenced the boy’s earlier remark. “What’d you say earlier? Spontaneity and all that. I’m… feeling this out.”

There was no questioning, no waiting, no self-sabotaging. What questions Kouyou may had had before were tucked aside and replaced with newfound wonder and intrigue that revolved around how did Takanori come to be a part of such a place. How did he mold himself here, in a shop so tucked away and poorly advertised, featuring one singular neon ‘TATTOO’ in the window when the lights were switched on from the inside? Kouyou had so many questions, and yet not nearly enough window space for time to ask when he couldn’t quiet peel his gaze away from the way Takanori’s lips curled around a grumble his ears couldn’t pick up as he watched Takanori grab for a felt marker pen and eyeball each one of Kouyou’s ears.

“Alright,” Takanori drawled. “Feeling ‘trusting’ enough to let me pierce one of your ears or both?”

“Both.”

“Oh? Go big or go home, mm?” Takanori hummed, leaning in so he was just inches from Kouyou’s face, looking directly at him. _Too close_ , a voice in the back of Kouyou’s head whispered, but as Kouyou grunted noncommittally with a slight shrug of a shoulder, he could tell that Takanori was merely concentrating on the visual placement of his piercings. “Think you’ll be able to pull it off?”

“What do you think?” It rolled off the tip of his tongue faster than Kouyou could reel himself back in from asking. What self-deprecating embarrassment he knew he’d hang himself with didn’t last under the weight Takanori’s gaze.  He could feel the warmth of Takanori’s breath fan across his skin and his lips absently parted. Like this, their gazes were leveled with each other’s, equals in their own right, and Kouyou’s eyes chanced a glance at Takanori’s lip piercing before meeting his gaze once more. Such dark eyes… Difficult to read, and yet piercing enough to make him think Takanori could see right through, into him. Right into the core of his being and what he kept locked away, the tangle of nerves that made his thoughts whirl and secret desire that made his mouth tingle, his soul want.

The sound of Takanori uncapping  his pen cut into what odd air had draped over them in the laps of silence, and Kouyou faintly flinched as Takanori dabbed it on the left earlobe, then his right before handing him a mirror.

“Look for yourself.” Takanori walked away with the tray after carefully removing it from Kouyou’s lap to wash his hands and sterilize the jewelry. On the way out, he grabbed some tongs out of a large, white box. Takanori never showed him what jewelry he’d place in his ears, and for that Kouyou was thankful. This was Takanori’s surprise, and since he was on board, full consent and all, it was only right to let him have the reigns through and through until the very end. When Takanori came back he was in the process of putting on latex gloves, the scent of rubbing alcohol potent as he moved to sterilize Kouyou’s ears.

Kouyou wasn’t crazy. Under no miraculous freak accident had he lost his mind. Yes, he was trespassing in a tattoo parlor with Takanori Matsumoto, letting him pierce his ear and having an ounce of trust in him to do a damn good job after buying him dinner and possibly outing himself to him. This was happening, right now.

Takanori placed the clamp around Kouyous left ear, slowly making it snug and holding it with his left hand. It was a little uncomfortable, but certainly not painful. Afterwards, he removed a hollow needle from its packaging, and Kouyou tried his best not to glance at it for a moment, but he couldn’t help it. It was thin, yet thicker than any injection needle that had ever been used on him before. The end of it came to a razor sharp tip in a V shape, and it looked… unsettling. Just a bit. But he was getting his ears pierced, for fuck’s sake. Five-year-olds did this easily.

“You can back out any time. It’s not too late.”

Takanori probably did this with his eyes closed, without a single, hesitant bat of his eyelash.

Kouyou inhaled deeply and exhaled, shaky and nervous and a full rush of _fuck it_. “Do i–”

Suddenly, there was a poke and a sting and a gasp of surprise right following behind it, but the needle was through the thin tissue of Kouyou’s earlobe before he even had a chance to say anything. The shock and adrenaline rushed hot through Kouyou’s veins. It wasn’t painful. No, not in the least bit. It was… exhilaration. It was spontaneity, trust, and Takanori shoving him over the edge before he could even think about bitching out, even though he wasn’t going to. Takanori was the current that pushed him and the graceful hand helping him up as he slid the needle out and threaded the jewelry in, securing the clasp behind it. It was over.

Perhaps the rush of adrenaline made reality feel a little fuzzy around the edges, the knowledge that his ear was pierced and sporting a piece of jewelry not yet sinking in, but Takanori’s dark eyes was what helped ground him as his face leaned in close to check the placement. However, the boy lingered.

“What are you looking for, Shima?” Takanori asked lowly, and Kouyou shook his head, his gaze still roaming over Takanori’s countenance, from the way his fringe fell to the plucked manicure of his eyebrows; the touch of color at the rounds his cheeks that hadn’t yet grown out of childhood innocence completely to the slope of his nose, the fullness of his lips – decorated by the lip ring that he could still feel its ghost impression against his lips in the dark of a janitor closet too cramped to hold them both.

What _was_ he looking for? He didn’t know, but in that moment his gut seemed to. The tension that kept them lingering by a breath’s strand did, that gravitational pull keeping him in Takanori’s orbit as Kouyou shifted did – to move away or draw himself in more, _he didn’t know_.

_Stop thinking. Stop talking._

Kouyou’s eyebrows furrowed and took a breath. “An epiphany.” he admitted at long last, a whisper so soft he could make-believe he hadn’t said a word. But Takanori heard him. The other boy’s eyebrow’s furrowed in surprise, yet only for a second. At the dip of his eyelashes as his dark eyes lowered to gaze at Kouyou’s lips,  Kouyou was vividly reminded of the way Takanori had kissed that stranger at Heather’s part. In Takanori’s hesitancy, in all of Kouyou’s shaky exhale, his mouth burned for it.

He went for it.

Whom closed the distance first – it didn’t matter. The first kiss was gentle, as though they were unsure of its reception, but Takanori’s hand grabbed the nape of his neck to pull him in the rest of the way again the moment he shed off his gloves with resolve and Kouyou followed. He just did it, just kissed him, lips slotting together in connection after their lips parted for only a second before Kouyou kissed Takanori again, and something ignited in the pit of his stomach that had him inhaling sharply on a breath through his nostrils as Takanori’s fingers tugged a little at his hair after blindly removing the beanie hat to tilt his head back and expose the length of his neck – something had _shut down_ in his head and rebooted all over again, born anew – and it was… fuck, it was–

It’s rubbing alcohol and latex gloves all he could breathe in, and the soft yet faint smell of sandalwood and coffee beans filling his senses as he kisses back with equal, newly discovered eagerness that threatened to take his breath away. It’s exhilaration, recklessness, and something so heady it moved Kouyou’s body on its own accord to touch and feel.

The way Takanori responded to his hand finding the curve of his waist was automatic. The boy shifted to straddle his lap and Kouyou’s hands found him, welcomed him; exploratively pulled him in the rest of the way and held him there, and he was gifted with a show of impatience as Takanori opened his mouth after teasing him with his tongue, with nibbles on his lip that made Kouyou kiss him a little harder, dare to dip his tongue into his mouth and taste what sweetness remained from their half-eaten frozen custard that was undoubtedly a liquified, melted mess in the cupholders by now. Where his hands slowly traced and trailed over, he didn’t have to make himself pretend away what wasn’t there that didn’t rouse him. And although it wasn’t Rookie, Takanori was– was sighing into his mouth a sound he never heard come from him, low and breathy when he gave an experimental squeeze to his narrow hip with one hand and splayed his fingers along his back  to cup the small of his back with the other. In the moment, it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered when he couldn’t stop his eyelashes from fluttering when Takanori gave another tug to his hair with one hand and cupped the crook of his neck with the other.

It was hard to distinguish who was in control, who wass leading, who was following. Sometimes, it wasTakanori, pulling on his hair and making his eyes flutter with a breathed _fuck_ that had Takanori taking sweet advantage to catch his breath and breathe into his mouth when their lips pulled away. Maybe it was Kouyou himself, relishing in the fact that two could play this game when his hands squeezed his waist just right; relishing in the gasp that flood his mouth before Takanori’s lips slipped over his temple to mouth a curb of his name into his hair when Kouyou ducked his head to test the water of kissing at his jawline, down the length of his neck and slowly smooth his tongue over his pulse point. It didn’t make it all the way, but it’s there and he knew Takanori hated it. _Loathed_ it. It’s why he kissed him a little harder than the last when he cupped his face and pulled him back, hoping he bruised.

Maybe they weren’t leading at all. Maybe, they were stumbling in the dark together. At least in the dark, Kouyou could pretend that he didn’t find the epiphany he needed in the cavern of Takanori’s mouth with hands in his hair, and sheer want for more than Takanori could give him warm behind his navel.

In the light, under the fluorescent lights of an empty tattoo parlor surrounded by no one except hands that cupped his face and smoldering dark eyes that kept him grounded, focused, Kouyou swallowed as they breathed each other in and caught their breath, lips hovering close on standby if either one leaned in again, Kouyou couldn’t hide from himself nor the epiphany that tasted sweet on his tongue. He wanted more of where it came from, and Takanori gave it to him.   

He was feeling, and he couldn’t stop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long time no see! I haven't forgotten about this fic, and with graduation from uni two weeks away I can finally pick this back up off the ground. I haven't had a lot of time for anything, but I'm slowly getting back into the things I loved doing before final undergrad thesis projects sucked whatever life I had. This was a long time coming, and I've been saying for months that I wanted to come back with a bang when I could. Here is the bang, and it's only uphill (or downhill) from here lol.
> 
> In between waiting for the next chapter, or even if you're in the mood to say "hi" or stick around for a chat, read some uruki drabbles, hop on over to my [writing tumblr.](http://uruhaxrukifanfics.tumblr.com/) Who knows, maybe you'll catch some Rookie pov themed drabbles if it's requested enough♡


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Don’t let that smile and one dimple fool you,” Yuu said, leaning in and beckoning Kouyou to do the same. He lowered his voice. “He’s a milf fucker. A goddamn legend.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uploading this a day early because I have finals and a final paper to work on tomorrow. But I wanted to get an update to you all in a timely manner. Aaah, I love you all so much. Thank you for so many kudos and the heart-warming comments, and welcome back ( ; v ; )

**I Guess**

**From:** [Fadless_Beauty@hotmail.com](mailto:Fadless_Beauty@hotmail.com)  
**To:**  [newyorkminute@live.com](mailto:newyorkminute@live.com)  
         _Tuesday, December 16, 2013 2:30 AM_

We don’t have to call it quits. You said you wanted to meet me, remember? Unless you’re having second thoughts already. T’s fine, I’d get it. I wouldn’t live up much to the hype, anyway.

You really know how to pick your words, huh. Fine. I’ll take the gift, so long as I get to gift you something in return. It’s only fair, right? If we meet before winter break, let’s exchange gifts on Chrsitmas Eve. We can plan out an itinerary for the day or something. Unless you have other plans.

I’d encourage you to overlook it, but you’ve already asked me. I’d be an asshole to reject you. And yeah, I’m kind of seeing someone. It’s ambiguous more than anything, so I can’t say it’s anything serious. It feels like I’m in this… weird gray area, teetering on the in-between where I don’t know where I stand anymore. It’s something, yet nothing at the same time. Now, it feels like hardly anything at all. I don’t know how to explain it. But this doesn’t affect my decision on accepting your offer. I want to go out on that date. With you.

(Maybe. It’s crossed my mind a time or two. But it wouldn’t serve any of us if it resulted in you making me like you, so try to tone it down for both our sakes)

* _whistles_ * That kind of sounds like something I’m going through right now. Minus the having sex with a chic part. I made out with this guy I’ve detested for what feels like my entire life. Knowing him feels like it’s been centuries instead of a handful of years, and not in the best way. It doesn’t help that he’s a good kisser. Like, really, _really_ good. I’d rather choke on my own tongue than admit that to him.

I wish he was a horrible kisser. I don’t even know what made me kiss him in the first place. I think it was just the moment, more than anything. He seemed troubled, and he reached out to me, and the way he looked at me… I don’t know what to kick myself over first – the fact that I liked it, or that I want it again.  How do you separate someone from a kiss? It’s infuriating that this isn’t a thing.

What I’m trying to say is… maybe you shouldn’t hookup with that girl again, if you weren’t feeling it to begin with. Maybe you should explore. Feel things out, take it slow. Don’t think too much about it; go where the flow carries you and don’t fight the tide if it feels right. See what makes you feel good, what makes you feel the most you that you’ve ever been. I’m not saying to go out and bang some random guy, but give what you’re feeling a chance. You might learn something new about yourself along the way.

Alright, question time. When you were a child, what job did you envision yourself doing as an adult?

Yours,

**Rookie**

P.S: I’m not going anywhere. I care about you, too.

 

 

►►

 

Two days. It’s been two days since that night in Sea of Ink, and Kouyou could still vividly remember what he could push out of his head. His pierced ears were the only memento he had left. That, and a hickey he didn’t know existed until Yuu snuck up behind him and pressed a chilled water bottle to the crook of his neck after filtering into Word Literature class from lunch.

“Look at the size of that hickey,” Yuu crowed in awe, an impressed whistle following close behind. Kouyou flinching away sharply with a rounded, annoyed glare didn’t faze him.  “You and Linda are catching up pretty nice lately, huh.”

Kouyou snatched the offered water bottle from Yuu before the dark-haired teen plopped in the desk behind him. “What are you talking about?” His hand shot up to touch where the chilled bottle kissed him at, a frown of confusion weighing at his eyebrows.

“That sweet, impressive hickey. It hasn’t faded a bit yet. Not to mention the earrings. Didn’t notice that in practice Monday ‘til now. I knew you two were catching up last weekend, but damn. Must have been one sweet weekend.”

Kouyou blanched. That ‘sweet weekend’ was only reserved for a Friday night cut short, swallowing nausea, disgust and guilt, eclipsed by late, Monday night trespassing to a closed tattoo parlor after dinner with Takanori, accompanied by spontaneous piercings and an in-the-moment heavy make out. If he closed his eyes, he could hear Takanori’s hitched breath in his ears as he suckled a bruise to his neck when his fingers dared to test slipping under the hem of the boy’s shirt to map the delicate curve of his back; admire how soft Takanori was. The thought, despite _knowing_ Takanori had ventured to lavish open-mouthed kisses to his neck, that Takanori had left behind a bruise in his wake made him feel far too warm for his liking. Whether it be out of fear or arousal, he didn’t know. Maybe both.

Whichever the case may be, it was stomped down immediately by frustration, curled at the edges by empty anger that lost its fizzle before it could take light. If only Yuu knew a sliver of it.

“Yeah,” Kouyou said dryly with a halfhearted shrug of a shoulder, rubbing at the side of his neck. A pinched frown decorated his countenance as he turned in his desk to face Yuu the best he could after setting aside the water bottle. In afterthought, he adjusted the collar of his varsity jacket to hide it. “Real sweet.”  

It must not have sounded too convincing for Yuu, because he frowned almost immediately. “Things still iffy?” It wasn’t like Yuu didn’t know how his and Linda’s relationship was like for the past two years. He had a low attention span, but he wasn’t an idiot. His attention to the things one would think he didn’t pay mind to was impressive; displaying his capacity of caring extended to those he held near and dear outside of his brash boisterousness.

Linda is gorgeous, and without a shadow of doubt Kouyou cared for her, no matter how inconsistent they were. Their relationship rode the wave of how far his title as captain could take him. When it was good, it was nice. When it was bad…

 There had to be a name for something about being comfortable in a flaky, superficial relationship. Or maybe this was just karma he was paying for in this lifetime. He must have had to stuck someone a thousand times over if this was the result. Karmic debt or some shit, he distantly recalled his sister harping on about whenever she talked about that sort of thing.  

He opened his mouth to respond, but he was quickly cut short by a teen that approached them.

“Boys,” the boy greeted brightly as he hovered close. The pair raised their eyes to meet the blinding smile of a brunette with dimples decorating one lone cheek, his hair styled in attractive layers. Whether or not Kouyou touched a hand to his own hair out of unconscious realization that he needed a trim of his own wasn’t the point.

“Yutaka,” Yuu drawled with a curious lilt, lifting his hand in a halfhearted salute to no one other than the president of the school’s newspaper ‘The GazettE’ with his pointer and middle finger after tapping the pads to his temple. “What can we help you with on this lovely period of world lit? If you’re looking for last minute homework answers, you won’t find it here.” Dry humor or not, it rewarded them a giggle.

“No, no, Yuu. I actually did my homework last night,” Yuu’s eyebrow twitched at the subtle jab. That alone was enough to make Kouyou snort on a snicker. “but I think the question is: what can _you two_ do for _me_.” If Kouyou didn’t know any better, he would have said Yutaka whipped out two cardstock printed invitations from thin air behind his back with how quick he was to unclasp his hands from behind his back and lure said invitations under their noses for them to take. “Come to my house party this Friday night? We can make it a joint celebration when you win us our victory that evening. What do you say?”

Yuu and Kouyou shared a look as they took their receptive invite. When neither one of them spoke up, Yutaka sighed and rolled his eyes.

“There will be free booze.”

Kouyou nodded at the ready. “It’s a deal.”

“You had me at booze.” Yuu chorused in right behind him all too quickly, grinning like a pleased Cheshire cat.

“Great!” That blinding smile that could give the sun a run for its money was back in full effect. “I’ll see you then. Oh, and Yuu,” Yutaka backtracked from turning around in afterthought, the buzz of students filling into the classroom enough to somewhat drown out his voice. However, the taunting glint in his eye was no mistake. “I can have my homework passed over if you need it.”

If Kouyou imagined Yuu’s eyebrow twitching before, he was sure of it now. The darker-haired boy’s eyebrow pulsated with annoyance and he huffed, upturning his lip with a flat glare. It looked more like a pout than an actual scowl. “…Yeah, yeah. Whatever. Send it over.”

Yutaka beamed and nodded his head, and he was gone with a slight spin on his heel; leaving behind a soft fragrance that one could physically get as close to sunshine and sparkles and sugar cookies as they could get.

“Has Yutaka always been this much of a peach?” Kouyou chuckled in amusement, resting his elbow on Yuu’s desk as he absently gave a sparing glance to a group of gossiping chatterboxes that traveled in a small group.

“Don’t let that smile and one dimple fool you,” Yuu said, leaning in and beckoning Kouyou to do the same. He lowered his voice. “He’s a milf fucker. A goddamn _legend_.”

“Christ, Yuu, I wouldn’t have pegged you to be part of the gossip clique.”

“It’s not gossip if it’s true!” Yuu smacked a hand to Kouyou’s shoulder. “How do you think he has house parties at different houses?” He waved his invitation in Kouyou’s face to point at the listed address – an address that _wasn’t_ Yutaka’s. “He makes change on the side for house sitting during the school year. Look, everyone knows he was pool boy over the summer for two years, right?” Kouyou nodded. “Pools ain’t the only thing he was blowing his back out cleaning over the summer.”

Kouyou scrunched his face in an unpleasant recoil. “Yuu–“

“Imagine,” there was no stopping him. “lonely, beautiful milfs watching Yutaka put his back into cleaning the pool while their husband’s either away, divorced or dead. He’s young, he’s– attractive,” Yuu gestured his hand as if to fan away the compliment. “If you were a hot milf, you wouldn’t risk it all and bang Yutaka?”

Absurd the given scenario may be, Kouyou eyed Yutaka from across the room with an arched eyebrow, contemplative, only to momentarily forgot how to breathe as he watched Yutaka approach the small group of rejects huddled near the back of the classroom where Takanori resided right in the middle of it; watched as Yutaka greeted them brightly, handing out invitations, and draped sunshine and sugar cookies over Takanori’s shoulders with familiar glee afterwards, muttering in his ear and rousing loud laughter from the petite boy that, after rolling his eyes, took the invitation waved tantalizingly under his nose with a nod of his head.

 If he were a lonely, divorced milf– No, if he were just… a single guy that was sexually attracted to men, would he have sex with Yutaka?

“Yeah,” Kouyou agreed after a moment, his eyes remaining on the pair that stayed glued together for a girl – Kiyoko, if he remembered properly – that maneuvered to take their picture with a pleased little squeal. When Takanori caught his gaze over Yutaka’s arm that was still around him, he subtly quirked an eyebrow and lazily payed his greeting with his middle finger. Kouyou paid him back in full without a missed beat, uneasy disgust and malice replaced with the memory of the boy’s breathy noise he could vividly remember greedily swallowing with his tongue in Takanori’s mouth; arousal hot behind his navel and adrenaline blazing through his veins after piercing and threading jewelry through his second earlobe.  “Maybe. Yeah, I’d fuck him.”

A relieved sigh. “Right? I knew I couldn’t have been the only one.”

Kouyou didn’t hear him. Not really. The entry of their world literature teacher shushing their loud chatter slowly brought the class to a tamable buzz before falling quiet. Yuu left him to his own thoughts when Yutaka’s homework was transferred over to him by a neighboring student, and Kouyou shifted in his seat to face the front of the class after giving one last glance to the back. He busied himself with fishing out his notebook and textbook from his backpack, a pen resting carefully in place behind his ear. He couldn’t help but mull over Yuu’s inquire a little more, recalling Takanori’s remark over dinner that nearly killed him in his own car.

Retrieving his phone from his jacket’s pocket, he hid it beneath his desk and slouched a bit in his seat as the teacher launched into a lecture about Greek mythology to discreetly send a text addressed to Queer Eye in his phone’s contact library.

_if you prefer older men, does that make you a dilf fucker?_

 A minute, two minutes, two days passed. His phone vibrated. Kouyou turned his phone around in his hold just enough to spare a look down at the screen of his phone. Big mistake.

_Who’s askin? ;)c_

Kouyou softly snorted. A crooked smile quirked at the corner his mouth as he stomped down a chuckle. _A friend. Kind of a curious guy._

_Yeah? Tell Curious George I don’t fuck and tell._

Kouyou’s eyebrows raised as he wiggled his thumbs hovering over the screen’s keyboard, contemplating what to say when another text appeared. _If he wanted to know so much, why didn’t he just ask me Monday night?_

_Because he didn’t think about it until now. Too occupied around that time, didn’t cross his mind to ask._

After a short pause that felt like a drag of eternity, another text appeared.

  _Dilfs are a gift to us all from the gods._

 

►►

 

 

**You + Me = Christmas Eve(?)**

**From:** [newyorkminute@live.com](mailto:newyorkminute@live.com)  
**To:**  [Fadless_Beauty@hotmail.com](mailto:Fadless_Beauty@hotmail.com)  
         _Wednesday, December 17, 2013 1:55 PM_  
  
Of course I haven’t forgotten. Me wanting to see you still stands.

Hmm… I should be free. I don’t think I have any plans for Christmas except staying here. My parents tend to travel somewhere warmer for the holiday, but since I’m old enough to stay behind I do. How about you? Got any traditions you usually do with your ‘rents?

Of course you have someone. You’re you. I shouldn’t have expected anything less. That’s a shame, though. Tell him to straighten up or else someone’ll come along and do better at what he’s slacking off on and taking for granted. If it’s open enough for that date, then… it should be fine, hmm? I’ll be looking forward to it. You won’t regret it (I hope).

( _Would_ it be such a problem? Did it cross your mind that maybe I wouldn’t see the harm in it?)

Oh yeah? It looks like we’re both kind of in the same ship. We must be on the same wavelength. I’m taking your advice before you’ve even given it to me. Absolutely amazing… I kissed the guy again – the one I told you about in the previous email. I’m usually a person that loves kissing; tries not to think about whom I’m kissing when I get to. But with him, I wanted to be fully aware of who I was doing it with, for the first time in ages. And I liked it. I liked it a lot. A shame that we don’t normally get along. He isn’t so bad.

Would I do it again? I don’t know, maybe. It was probably one of the best kisses I’ve received, and it made me feel good instead of hollow afterwards. I’m ‘going with the tide’, as you say. I don’t know where it’s taking me, but I’m trying not to control the direction. Move with the current, right?

Easy: I wanted to be a guitarist and play for the biggest live concert in the world. My best friend’s older brother played guitar, and we’d watch and mimic him. He’d share his vinyl collection of classics, and when I’d spend the night my friend and I would sneak into his brother’s room when he’d be away and plaster our little grubby hands on them. Leave fingerprints and everything. I wanted to be one of the greatest guitar players that ever walked this earth. I know, it’s dumb, but we wanted to make a band and travel the world, and be on television.

I also wanted to own a big house with lots of stray animals that were abandoned and didn’t have a family at some point. How would I make this work, you ask? I don’t remember, but child-me had a nice heart – too big for his size, because he cried whenever his parents drove by stray animals 8/10 of the time, but he was a good kid no less.  Now? I don’t know. I don’t play so much these days, and I feel like I’ve lost touch with that kid a long time ago. I don’t even know where I want to be in the next five, ten years from now. The future is kind of a scary thought, isn’t it? It scares me, a little.

Didn’t mean to bring down the mood. I seem to be notorious for doing that since we’ve started this assignment. My turn. Tell me about little Rookie and his childhood dreams. While you’re at it, answer me this: You’ve been granted three wishes – what would you wish for?

With deep appreciation,

**ÆTIUS**

►►

 

_Slap. Squeak. Swish._

In the moment, the held pause that washed over them was as if the crowd held its its breath. Kouyou could still remember how he had forgotten how to breathe, trusting Yuu to bring it home as he passed the ball to him when their gazes met with desperation slick with sweat in the palm of their hands, make things right. Win.

He could still hear the shrill ring of the buzzer as Yuu aimed and shot, the basket ball sailing with hope caught in their lungs–

Kouyou laughed as Yuu looped an arm around his neck, placing him in a headlock that felt more like a hug than anything else the moment they stepped through the threshold of Yutaka’s house party, drowned out by the roaring cheer of greeting they received. There was no pre-party alcohol on the way over, given that Yuu was driving, but his cheeks flushed pink regardless as he rode the wave of victory with Kouyou at his side, battle cry on his lips and fist held high and proud. Tonight, they were gods amongst their peers, and the high was glorious.

“See what happens when you actually give me the ball and rely on me?” Yuu said as he ruffled Kouyou’s hair playfully, a lopsided grin decorating his mouth. “Team work makes the dream work.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Kouyou passively agreed, keeping an arm around his best friend’s torso and the other to accept a shot glass filled to the brim with whiskey from the host himself that managed to make his way over, sunshine in his eyes. It was going to be one of those nights, it looked like.

“Whoa there, boys. Try to save some room for Jesus.” Tora jeered from behind them, clapping a heavy hand to their shoulders in passing and causing Kouyou’s drink to slosh more than it should have, gaining collective laughter from those close enough to hear him over the music. “The last thing we need is Linda serving us your head on a silver platter for trying to steal her man.”

“Linda can suck my left nut. I don’t need to steal anyone. I had him first – _my_ best friend, _my_ day-one. Isn’t that right, Kouyou?”

Kouyou knocked back his shot and scrunched up his face instead of answering immediately, opting to savor the aftertaste of cinnamon left behind on his tongue. Linda was the first one to cling to him afterwards, yet couldn’t make it over with them, in the end. Something about an argument with her mom that resulted in her being grounded from ‘weekend activities’ one her parents came back in town. Not having her near him made breathing easier, that caged hollowness quieted under the weight of Yuu’s arm and Yutaka refilling his shot glass so they could clink their glasses in cheers.

“Shut the fuck up and drink already, dipshit.”

There was a distinct difference between Heather’s and Yutaka’s type of house parties, yet Kouyou, after all this time, couldn’t pinpoint it. Dimmed lights were swapped for a more ambient allure rather than the normally dark living room with missing couches to make room for dancing, sweet teens. Maybe it was because his parties were always hosted in a different home every time, but it was… comfortable. Easy. The world felt fuzzy around the edges, quieter despite the blare of music that was easy for other to sway and dance to rather than grind like wanton lovers with their clothes still on and make mouths burn in jealous looking from the outside in.

He lost Yuu for what felt to be hours ago, lost sight of sunshine and sparkles until he was back to engage in more cinnamon whiskey shots and refill his red plastic cup with beer when it had gone dry and empty in between socializing; growing too warm in his own skin. Yuu’s inquire earlier in the week crossed his mind when his lidded gaze lingered on Yutaka longer than it should as they interlocked their arms like newlyweds the same way he and Yuu had done together earlier – a drink to brotherhood, he distantly recalled his history teacher explaining being the German equivalent – and simultaneously tossed back their respective shots of Capitan Morgan’s spiced rum. _Would you fuck him_ , Yuu’s voiced asked in his head as he watch Yutaka’s eyes linger on his countenance, flicker to the jewelry decorating his ears and the beanie hat he hadn’t removed from his head; that kept his head warm and his still-damp hair from his shower concealed. Would he?

He needed to get rid of his jacket, lay it on the counter. He needed–

A slender hand slipped into his and lured him away from Yutaka, whom was too bright for a too spacious kitchen anyway. It’s why his eyes turn away from him to fixate on the girl that encourages him to spend time with her and her group and he sticks to that reason like his life depended on it. He turned to apologize, but Yutaka shooed him away with a sweet smile, despite its naturally set watts dimming a bit. He wasn’t sober enough to figure out a reasoning to anything, so he stomached what made him shoot Yutaka an apologetic glance over his shoulder before whisked away; jacket forgotten.

The girl that held him captive now smelt nice. It was a soft, citrusy fragrance that hooked him, and her hands did the rest when she asked him to dance with her, settling at his sides and pressing in close. Tora was wrong, he though fuzzily. Linda would have _his_ head on a silver platter if she saw him now, caged in by a girl whom he couldn’t remember the name of and her friend, pressing in behind him as they swayed to the sensual beat of music.

 _A god amongst peers_ , a voice hollowly whispered at the back of his mind as fingertips traced at his jawline. _A legend_ , it sneered mockingly as a hand slipped underneath the hem of his shirt and splayed slender fingers over his toned stomach with purpose when a warm mouth slotted at the crook of his neck where Takanori’s hickey stained him. When he closed his eyes, he didn’t feel so dizzy. Reality didn’t feel so unsettling when he allowed himself to not think, to not pay attention to who kissed at his neck and swayed with him, caressed him just slightly below his navel. But when he opened his eyes, his eyebrows furrowed.

There, across the room in the foyer hovering close by the staircase was Takanori. Strange. He hadn’t seen him at all tonight, didn’t even _know_ he was here, and yet he was all he could see in a crowd full of people. The memory of Yutaka giving Takanori an invitation was a belated recall, but it was one that held little to no importance when Kouyou realized how much the boy paced back and forth, talking on his cellphone the best he could with his hand held cupped over his ear and a pinched frown weighing at his eyebrows. What Kouyou wouldn’t have given to be a fly on the wall, or the staircase banister. What was the reason for the infuriated expression on his flushed countenance, the cause for his wet eyes as he pressed the palm of his free hand to his forehead when his back and forth pacing drew to an abrupt halt.

It wasn’t his business, he chided to himself as he forced himself to look elsewhere. Takanori wasn’t his business. So why did he feel an uneasy knot settle in the pit of his stomach when he looked back and noticed Takanori was nowhere to be found in the spot he saw him in earlier?

He wasn’t an umbrella stand, wasn’t something Yuu had stolen in the dead of the night and trashed, yet Kouyou felt compelled to pull himself away from the pair of hands that felt him up to cheek regardless, away from lips that invited him somewhere for something more private. “I need some air.” It wasn’t necessarily a lie. Without his coat in hand, there was no fucking way he was going to brave the cold without it. So, he weaved himself through the crowd of swaying bodies with an unfocused gaze that swept over faces, both familiar and stranger, searching.

He passed a couple making out up against a wall near the staircase and it didn’t make his mouth burn in want. It only made his tongue feel heavy with Takanori’s name unspoken on his lips and resisting the drunken urge to poke himself in someone’s personal space and ask if they’ve seen him; seen where he went. He wanted to ask. It would have made everything so much easier, but Kouyou was hardheaded and determined, stubborn.

Climbing the stairs, however, was a task his fuzzy dizziness wasn’t prepared for. He held on to the banister rail on his way up, mahogany smooth under his flushed touch; forced to take his time and not risk growing nauseas.

“Son of a bitch,” a boy growled before pounding on a closed door locked shut down a hallway Kouyou turned into to weave himself through and peer into any unlocked bedrooms. “Open the fucking door! I’ve gotta take a piss here!”

Kouyou approached the frustrated teen. “Who’s in there?”

“The Queen himself,” the boy responded, his voice dripping with cynical honey too sweet, too thick, for anyone’s mouth. “Thinks he can just lock himself in and _hog the bleeding bathroom_!” He yelled at the closed door, his words a drunken slur as he gave it a vicious kick.

“Alright, alright! Hey, look,” Kouyou intervened once he realized whom ‘the queen’ referred too, outstretching his arm to block the other teen any further, stepping in his way to level their gaze. “there’s another one that’s unoccupied right down the other end of the hallway. I just passed it on my way over. Some bedrooms might even have an adjoined one. Alright?” The boy wasn’t ready to backdown, and Kouyou wasn’t sure if he had an ounce of sobriety in his bloodstream to muscle anyone away from the door in defense. “There’s more than one bathroom.”

It took a small moment, but the teen eased up enough to emit a displeased huff and stiff nod of his head before leaving. Kouyou hadn’t realized he’d been holding his breath a good portion of while until his shoulders sagged with relief as he deeply sighed. He took a moment to gather himself before turning around to lean in close, gently knock on the door, and wait.

He cleared his throat. “Hey, Queer Eye,” And wait some more. And wait. And _wait_. “Taka, it’s me.” He said a little louder, knocked just a little harder. Nothing. Growing frustrated, he moved to twist the doorknob, only to discover it was indeed lock. He frowned, knocking with more purpose. Suddenly, a soft click emitted from the door that went unnoticed. “C’mon, Taka, open the damn d– What the _fuck_?“

The door swung out at long last, taking Kouyou by surprise to make him take a step back and narrowly avoid it slamming into his face, or worse, breaking his nose.

 “Oh, fuck off!” Takanori bellowed, lashing out in an unforgiving blaze of fury capable of burning all in his way and bring ruin. “There’s more than just one fucking bathroom in this goddamn house! And if you _think_ , for a _second_ , that I give a _shit_ about you pissing yourself in the middle of the fucking hallway, you–“ Drawing in a breath forced an end to Takanori’s tirade, made him take a sharp, trembling breath and dilute his gaze from seeing red rather than Kouyou in front of him as their gaze met – Kouyou’s saving grace. It was just enough in the thick lapse of silence for reality to make clear that no, Kouyou wasn’t the asshole banging on the door like a deranged lunatic; wasn’t the asshole that deserved a verbal beating that gave Kouyou’s own a run for his money. And when it did, Takanori’s white-knuckled tight grip on the doorknob slacked, his jaw slacking around words that lost life on the flat of his tongue and throat working for something, anything.

It had to be the cause for why his countenance steadily cracked right before Kouyou’s eyes as he watched Takanori’s red-rimmed own whelm with a fresh batch of tears he fought tooth and nail to keep from spilling over.

The boy stuttered on a breath. The battle had been lost and the tears won. But it propelled him to close the distance between them and throw himself right into arms Kouyou wasn’t aware had held out for Takanori until he stumbled back a bit on impact, clutching him close and stepping in to meet Takanori halfway.

“It’s okay, I’ve got you.” Kouyou’s hand automatically found its way to the back of Takanori’s head as Takanori pressed his face into Kouyou’s shoulder, the shorter teen’s hands fisting the back of his shirt as if he’d disappear. “I’ve got you.” He whispered, shifting enough to rest his cheek atop of the boy’s head over the dyed pink section amongst dark locks. In turn, he was met with a muffled sound, a sob that tugged at something in his chest and made Takanori shake with it. They had stumbled their way to stand in the threshold of the doorway, but Kouyou didn’t have the heart to move. Not with Takanori’s hot tears soaking their way into his shirt; blaring music nothing but a muffle, yet just enough to cover the miserable cries Takanori emitted.

“I wanna leave,” Takanori murmured after what felt like a stretch of eternity, lifting his flushed face with a sniffle that threatened to crack under a new wave of tears. When he looked up at Kouyou, Kouyou had half the mind to thumb away his tears. “I wanna go home. I don’t– I don’t want to be here anymore.”

“Let me take you home.” The offer was immediate instead, Kouyou’s arms tightening around him when he realized Takanori tried to shove him away with a shake of his head. “You’re drunk– hey, _hey_ ,” he held Takanori tighter to stop him from pushing at him, and it only earned him a pitiful, tearful noise that made something in Kouyou twist uncomfortably. He softened his tone. “Let me take you home. Okay?” No, he didn’t have his dad’s car tonight of all nights. No, he wasn’t going to steal Yuu’s car keys and drive when he knew he was just as drunk, but he… he wanted to help. Somehow, some way.

“I don’t…” Takanori sniffled. “I don’t remember where my jacket is.” he said helplessly.

“That’s fine. You can borrow mine.” Kouyou insisted, looking over Takanori’s head to attempt scanning the bathroom for any items Takanori may have left scattered about. He didn’t see anything, save for his cellphone lyingg in a heap on the floor surrounded by cracked glass. Shit, the screen was broken. When he untangled himself to pick it up and hand it to him, Takanori refused outwrite, immediate. It only made that miserable look return tenfold, so Kouyou kept it, cooed an apology for upsetting him as gently as he could and reached out to draw Takanori’s face back into his chest for a moment to let him cry again if he needed to; a hand cradling the back of Takanori’s head whilst the other pocketed the boy’s phone into the back pocket of his jeans.

It took some time, but he finally got Takanori walking so that they could venture downstairs towards the kitchen where he his jacket remained untouched on the counter, maneuvering past drunk teens that were too wrapped in themselves to care about what happened outside of their own bubble. Yutaka was nowhere to be seen refilling cups, and he hadn’t seen Yuu since the moment he left his side earlier tonight. Sighing, he retrieved his jacket and helped Takanori into it, clumsily zipping it up all the way to lock in warmth.

“Good?” Kouyou asked, pausing suddenly before removing the beanie he wore and slipping it on Takanori’s head; adjusting it so it covered his ears. Takanori frowned.

“Take it back.”

"...No?" Kouyou said. “It’s yours. I should have given it back to you from the jump”

“But you need this more than I do right vnow.” Takanori argued.  

Kouyou sighed, “I’ll be fine. I’ve dealt with colder.” he dismissed. A lie saturated in alcohol that was currently his voice of reasoning, to an extent, but he was more than sure he’d live. “C’mon. Let’s get you home.” The pair exited from the patio entrance through the kitchen, slipping into the night where little to no one was drunk or stupid enough to battle the weather for a cigarette. What did that say about him when he wasn’t braving the cold for a cigarette, but _someone_ , he wondered as he held out his hand for Takanori to take and hold on to.

Walking to a near bus stop in the freezing cold with periodic stops when Takanori could walk no longer, when the tears were too much and he simply needed a moment to sob openly, Kouyou found something more sobering than the weather itself: the slow, uncomfortable twist in his gut as he watched Takanori tilt his face to the open sky loitered in starlight and cry with his free hand pressed to his chest, where the source of his heartbreak resided. It was heartbreak at its finest. Kouyou knew, because he had witnessed it on Linda’s mother’s face before her parents divorced; his sister’s face when she received a text message during their sibling hang-out day, fighing back tears until they got home, where she cried for two weeks straight. There was nothing Kouyou could do then, and nothing had changed now. But he could hold Takanori’s hand and allow him to lean into him until the bus shuttle arrived as they waited under the bus stop sign; shivering, fingertips numb. That, he was more than willing to be of service to do.

When the bus finally arrived, Kouyou dumped enough money in the collection bin for the two of them. The rows of seats were vacant, yet he opted to sit towards the very back anyway where, since riding the public transport frequently as of late before his dad let him borrow his car, he favored most. He took the window seat and Takanori sat beside him, sniffling and too cried out to produce another tear. At least, Kouyou hoped so. He released Takanori’s hand to rub his own together, blowing the warmth of his breath into his palms for much needed warmth. There was no way he was going to get the chill of tonight off of him without a hot shower one way or the other, but–

He looked to Takanori with worry, sympathy softening the edges of his eyes. Takanori’s head hung low, his eyes trained on his hands where they rested limp in is lap, as if the answers he sought for where right there in his palms. It was a strange feat to think that he had just held someone, felt them tremble and break in his arms, and crumble the rest of the way. To know that someone was _Takanori_ – crude, prickly Takanori with too much mouth that didn’t match his stature, wit and fire burning in his veins… His tongue didn't know how to find a resting spot in his mouth. 

Shifting, he gained the boy’s attention with a hand resting on his back before before beckoning him to come over, patting his lap in a silent invitation that Takanori took at long last after hesitating. But once he came closer, sat sideways in his lap so that he could curl up into Kouyou’s warmth (what warmth remained), it was smooth sailing from there. There was ease in the way Kouyou’s arms wrapped around him to cradle him in his hold; how Takanori’s head rested on his shoulder as the boy exhaled wetly. So easy, Kouyou thought Takanori would have another cry. Instead, Takanori’s head tilted back enough to look up at him and Kouyou met his gaze; observed those unfocused dark eyes red rimmed in sorrow. Eyes that, after a moment, found focus on Kouyou’s eyes as the tips of their noses brushed.  

Only the soft rumble of the bus’s engine cut into the comfortable silence they shared where neither spoke a word. When Takanori’s eyes whelmed, spilling over in silence, Kouyou’s hand was quick to raise just so he could slowly thumb away what tears he could catch. For those that he couldn’t, he cradled the back of Takanori’s head when the boy buried his face into his shirt to muffle the beginnings of a tearful sob. It didn’t make it any farther than that, Kouyou discovered, when he gave a small squeeze to the nape of his neck; held him a little tighter.

The ride to Takanori’s neighborhood was a stretch from Yutaka’s party, but a stretch much appreciated. It granted rejuvenated warmth and regained feeling in the tips of his fingers, but he was ready to brave the cold again long enough to walk Takanori home. He waited on his doorstep as Takanori drunkenly went through almost every flowerpot there was until he found the spare housekey to unlock the front door. But another wave of tears had stopped him, and it became Kouyou’s duty to take over and unlock the door for him before ushering him out of the cold and into the toasty warmth Takanori deemed home.

“C’mon, Taka,” Kouyou gently sighed as he locked the front door, feeling Takanori’s tear-stained face pressed into his back an his fingers curl into his shirt with a pitiful, teary sound. “You gotta help me out here, alright? I don’t– I don’t…” _I don’t know if I should be here_ , he wanted to say. He could count on his hands how many times he’d had the ‘luxury’ of dropping Takanori off here, yet never had he stepped foot inside his home; didn't feel that he should have the right to. He didn’t even have the luxury to take everything in properly, despite how out of place he felt. But it wasn’t what was important. Not right now. If he left Takanori like this, something told him that he wouldn’t forgive himself.

Turning around, he lowered himself just enough to pick Takanori up, an arm secured under his knees and the other at his back. “Where’s your bedroom?” he asked. Takanori gestured towards a nearby staircase when words failed him, and Kouyou took what little information he was given, carrying the weepy teen upstairs on slightly shaky legs. It wasn’t exactly hard to find which bedroom was Takanori’s after flipping up the light switch with his shoulder. There were band posters loitered on one wall and a desk that housed a laptop in the far-left corner. At the right resided a queen sized bed, and Kouyou made his way over to it without wasting another second. He eased Takanori onto it as carefully as he could. Kneeling on his knee to ease the boy’s boots and socks off his feet reminded him of tending to Linda whenever she got too plastered to remove her own clothes. But the oddly warm sensation that rooted itself in his chest as he unclothed Takanori from out of his varsity jacket and beanie hat never bloomed the same way. Didn’t nearly take his breath away when he stood to lean over the boy with his knee braced on the edge of Takanori’s bed, grabbing his slender wrists to ease his hands away from rubbing his eyes raw and red with a care so gentle it reminded him of his mother when she’d soothe his hair back from his face after letting him crying into her lap about stray animals they couldn’t take home.

“He left me,” Takanori heartbrokenly wept into the quiet of his room, falling slack in Kouyou’s grasp when he lost the fight to tug his wrists free. In the end, all he could do was turn his face away and sob openly, shutting Kouyou away by closing his eyes. “He left me.”

Kouyou’s gaze softened. Releasing his wrists, he stood back and looked around with a sigh of finality. He toed out of his shoes and neatly placed them aside, abandoning Takanori’s side just for a moment to quietly close his bedroom door and switch off the lights. He didn’t need the light's guidance to pull back the sheets and comforter enough to help maneuver Takanori underneath and make sure his head was cushioned on a pillow and not the mattress itself when he turned his back to curl in on himself and openly cry. And maybe Takanori didn’t need him. Maybe he wanted to be left alone and not be seen in a light that painted him as fragile. Weak. Broken. But as Kouyou slipped underneath the covers after setting both his and Takanori’s cellphones on the neighboring nightstand, he spooned himself around the boy regardless and held him as close, as comfortable, as he could; burying his nose into his hair and breathing him in.

“I’m here, now.” Kouyou comforted quietly at Takanori’s ear in the dark as the boy softly shook in his embrace. “I’m right here.”

He wasn’t going anywhere.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “That’s… No. It’s nothing. I’ve just been a little out of it since Friday.”

It was the smell of tobacco that lured Kouyou to consciousness from his slumber. That, and the missing warmth his arm attempted to close around. All that was left was an empty space that didn’t sit right in his soul in that moment and he searched, fingers curling into the vacant space as his eyebrows furrowed in a sleepy frown. Strange. He couldn’t have fallen asleep so deeply. The last thing he could recall was the decision to stay awake until Takanori stopped crying and his trembles ceased to pave way for an easy sleep, hoping that emotional exhaustion would win in the end. And even then, Kouyou wanted to stay awake for him. Just in case he woke up hungover and miserable.

Yet, he had fallen asleep. He’d fallen sleep, Takanori was missing and Kouyou was doing a piss poor job doing what he had set out to do in the first place.

“Sleeping Beauty awakes.”

Kouyou’s head turned in the direction where he heard the lazy drawl of Takanori’s voice after rolling to rest on his back. The room was still draped in darkness, save for where Kouyou could somewhat make out where Takanori sat on a window seat with a leg curled under him. A burning cigarette held perched between his lips and his hands fiddled with a contraption Kouyou squinted at in confused suspicion until the boy held it leveled to his face and a soft _click_ filled the room. A camera.

“Sleeping Beauty,” Kouyou parroted dryly. “I hope you didn’t try to kiss me while I was asleep.”

“Keep dreamin’,” Takanori quipped with ease, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I’m not drunk enough anymore to visit that neck of the woods with you again.”

“You need to be drunk to kiss me? That’s a shame. I can’t say the same.” How that was meant to come out and how it sounded in his head didn’t quite match what Kouyou had in mind, and he groaned belatedly in realization. “ _Not_ what I meant. I meant, since you’re not and I am, it’s–”

“It isn’t? ‘cause I think you’ve made yourself loud and clear.”

The pair lounged back to get a good look at each other as best as they could in the dark, Takanori tilting his head back and Kouyou blinking away what kept his eyes so heavy with lingering drowsiness.

“Hey,” Kouyou breathed quietly, relief sinking into his bones like the first dip into a hot bath as he rested a hand to his chest.

“Hey,” Takanori replied as quiet, placing aside his camera in favor of resting his hands in his lap. Kouyou looked him over, noting the change of clothes Takanori wore: a comfortable long-sleeved oversized shirt and pajama bottoms.

 “Did you get some sleep?”

Takanori shrugged. “Not really,” he took a long drag from his cigarette and tapped the burning ash on a nearby ashtray, expelling smoke to the ceiling with a lazy back-tilt of his head. “I got up a couple’a minutes ago, maybe. Almost an hour.” He gestured towards the end of his bed with a wave of his hand. “I sat some clothes out for you in case you woke up uncomfortable. It’s Akria’s leftovers, so it shouldn’t be a problem fitting you.” He had his head in the right place, at least. Jeans were definitely uncomfortable to sleep in, but it was the last thing on Kouyou’s mind. Takanori had been so warm, hot like a furnace beneath the sheets they shared as he held him, and Kouyou had half the mind to tell him to come back; the other half somewhat insulted for having it deprived from him.

He didn’t, of course. Reluctant he may be to move, Kouyou sat up anyway to look for said clothes and found them with ease once his eyesight adjusted in the dark.

Getting out of bed may had been a challenge but changing in front of Takanori was a no-brainer. They’ve shared the same Physical Education gym class for the past three years, though Takanori skipped enough of it for them both. Of all the times they’ve unchanged in front of each other, finding Takanori’s gaze locked on him when he turned around was never the common occurrence, and it caught him off guard after folding his clothes and placing the small stack aside, cigarette burning between his fingers.

“Akira’s?” Kouyou arched an eyebrow as he approached the petite teen, absently adjusting the band of sweatpants at his hips with a little tug. “He comes around here often?”

“Sometimes,” A twitch of a faint smirk quirked the corner of Takanori’s lips, gone as soon as it surfaced. “He leaves some of his shit behind, and I just end up…” he trailed off, distracted. Surprised, even. Kouyou had taken his cigarette from him, and instead of snuffing it out in the ashtray he helped himself to a drag of his own. It was slow and deep, tickling the back of his throat with a slight burn he’d almost forgotten he used to like before exhaling a steady stream of smoke to the side.

“Menthol?”

“Yeah…” Takanori answered slowly, eyes lidded in confusion and something else. “I thought you didn’t smoke.”

Kouyou shrugged. “I don’t. Not anymore. I used to share a pack with Yuu during the New Year holiday. Just one, as tradition. We’d drink a lot and get pretty sloshed off his parent’s stash, share a couple of cigarettes. I stopped when my dad found out about the pack of cigarettes I was hiding in my room after the roomkeeper stumbled across it while cleaning.”

“You’re lying.”

“I swear it on everything,” Kouyou vowed. “Never tried to get cigarettes under the table or smoke behind his back ever again after he ripped me a new one. I’d been clean ever since.”

Takanori smirked. “Until now.”

“Yeah,” Kouyou returned Takanori’s smirk with his very own. “’Til now.” A comfortable silence draped around them, and the tiny chuckle of amusement they shared simmered into something so transparent, Kouyou believed he could touch it. It reminded him of the sheer veil that he saw that night Monday – the sheer veil that separated them – when he could taste Takanori on his tongue, brought it down momentarily as truce. And maybe this was their truce, right now: sharing a cigarette with Kouyou hovering near and Takanori curled into the winter chill of his window with red-rimmed sorrow still framing his eyes, their fingers lingering longer than necessary when their touch brushed against one another with each passing.

If it was, then Kouyou was willing to wave his white flag for the moment and reach for Takanori’s hand after the boy snuffed out what little remained of the cigarette, sitting close on the window seat. In silence and granted cloak of darkness, Kouyou could properly feel the weight of Takanori’s sadness rolling from him in waves. Neither of them said a word, yet their fingers, after twitching in hesitance, relaxed into what warmth they each brought to exchange; dancing around each other’s fingertips as if separated by an unseen barrier until hesitant trepidation melted into something easy, natural,  at long last.

Takanori’s hand was so much smaller than his, Kouyou thought in hazy awe. He didn’t have to see. Didn’t need to, he realized as he closed his eyes and tipped his head back to rest carefully onto the window with a contented exhale through his nostrils. Just the feeling of Takanori’s hand in his own brought a still peace he’d never felt anywhere else outside of running.  

Could Takanori feel it, too, Kouyou wondered. Did he feel a sliver of peace, too, like this? He hoped so. The heartbreaking sobs the boy emitted still struck sharp and vivid in his head, and it made his grasp tighten a little more when their fingers slotted together to fill the webbed spaces, their palms kiss. He brought their joined hands to his chest and held it there, where the uncomfortable tug in his chest ached ever so softly in the strangest way that he couldn’t explain even if he tried, knowing there was nothing he could do to ease the boy’s pain.

Where he quietly guided Takanori followed seamlessly, shifting to willingly curl against him with his back nestled in his side and a knee drawn to his chest, and Kouyou welcomed it. After a moment of contemplation, he spoke up quietly. “Do you want to…”

“Don’t,” Takanori interjected, his voice tight with emotion and firm in defense for a sliver of a second. Just a second. It dwindled the moment he swallowed down what whelmed within him and inflated into something softer, tired, yet made sure to leave not an inch of leg room to press for questions with enough cushion for an unvoiced apology. “Don’t. I don’t want to talk about it right now.”

“Alright,” Kouyou soothed. “We don’t have to talk.” They could just… exist, like this, for however long Takanori wanted. Whose nose did he want him to break for making him cry the way he did, Kouyou wanted to ask. There was power in the Google search engine. All he needed was a name, an address. But it seemed all Takanori needed was a shoulder to rest his head on, a hand to hold for comfort, and Kouyou learned that maybe, just maybe, there was power in that, too.

“Shima,”

“Mm?” Kouyou hummed a sleepy, noncommittal noise after a minute’s delay, standing at the threshold between dozing off back to sleep yet still aware of the little brushes Takanori’s thumb traced along his skin.

“Go back to bed,” Takanori’s thumb skimmed over the back of his hand in a slight caress. “You’re falling asleep on me.”

“I’m not,” He was. “I’m awake. I’m right here, if you need me.”

“What I need is for you to go back to sleep,” Takanori carefully squeezed Kouyou’s hand. “Get some rest. Sleep off the rest of the alcohol some more before you leave.”

Kouyou declined with a light shake of his head, sleep just a few breaths away. He had enough in him to wrap his free arm across Takanori’s chest and lean to bury his nose in his hair. Takanori smelt nice, like smoky menthol, something woodsy, and a cologne that made him breathe the boy in a little deeper on the next inhale to take it all in. How had he never noticed before? “Not without you,” he husked close to his ear. “You’re a fucking furnace, did you know that?”

“Tsc,” Takanori sucked his teeth, as if to wag shame, but there was an air about it that softened the severity of it. “Is that why you woke up? Because the ‘furnace’ went missing?” What he failed to realize was that Kouyou held no shame at all. Not when he was still intoxicated and softly knocking on slumber’s backdoor.

“It’s cold, I’m drunk, and you just so happen to be the most comfortable furnace I’ve ever slept next to. It was bound from the jump that I’d wake up to find you either way.” Kouyou paused, contemplating. “And you smell nice. Even if you weren’t those things, I’m sure I would have come looking for you. So, no.”

Takanori chuckled, though it sounded wet around the edges. Kouyou didn’t think anything he said would have trigged much of anything, let alone a fresh set of tears, but it did, and a teary sniffle followed right behind it, a mumbled _fuck_ smothered under a palm, and he buried his face into Takanori’s hair. “Sorry. I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” he apologized with regret, for nothing and everything, willing to take back what he said but releasing the boy’s hand to secure both his arms around him when Takanori openly cried into the palm of his hand pressed to his eyes. The shudders returned, and Kouyou could do nothing. Nothing at all except hold him until the sun rose like a flower opening, gifting its petals unto the world in a blush of scarlet, the warmth of tangerine; darkness surrendering to the light.

Kouyou watched the sunrise unfold before him with tired eyes, his cheek resting comfortably atop of Takanori’s head. At some point, he had cried himself out, finding slumber in Kouyou’s arms, his gentle silence, and the earlier retrieved blankets from his closet that kept them warm.

“Hey, Taka,” Kouyou murmured at the boy’s ear once dipping his head enough to do so, a tender awe warming his voice as he lowered his tone into a near whisper. “Even when we’re drowning in grief and hardship, the sky still remains beautiful. Amazing, isn’t it?” A small smile uplifted a corner of his lips. “If the sky can remain vivid and powerful, come what may,” he turned his face to look upon Takanori’s countenance the best he could from such an angle and his gaze softened. “So can you.”

Of course, Takanori said nothing. Didn’t even so much as stir. But he had shifted the moment Kouyou picked up his damaged cellphone from the nightstand just to tuck his head more beneath his chin, and Kouyou’s arms decided, without his permission, that it was good enough by holding him just a little tighter.

 

►►

 

When Takanori said not to question him, Kouyou respected it. If he didn’t want to talk about it, he didn’t have to. After all, it was none of his business. The only reason he was looped into anything was simply by coincidence. He walked straight into it, and when the option to leave Takanori be where he crumpled or not, he made his choice at the end of the night.

So, walking away from it afterwards when there was no other reason for him to stick around was the right action to take. Anyone would have done it. Not looking back and carrying on with his life was the _appropriate_ measure any sane person with common sense would have taken.

Then why the fuck was he internet-stalking the bastard who kept texting and calling Takanori’s phone?

Kiyoharu Mori was his name. All he needed was a first name, and by the grace of some high entity bored out of their mind willing to grant him his heart’s desire (for the sake of their amusement, no doubt; Greek Mythology gods were the worst kind of trouble and World Literature’s lecture from last class period was still sticking) he got it. Takanori’s phone vibrated through Friday night well into Saturday morning, insensitive to the request to be left the fuck alone. Holding on to Takanori’s phone so that it didn’t rattle atop his nightstand and upset him more was a good idea, at the time. But had Kouyou known he’d develop an insistent itch the moment he caught glimpse of the string of text messages sent from this Kiyoharu, he wouldn’t have touched it from the jump.

The quote that mentioned something about being careful what you wish for crossed his mind, and an annoyed scowl settled on his countenance. Google was powerful, but Facebook was a force to be reckoned with and Kiyoharu was an easy find. Especially since there weren’t a shit-ton of people in the world with the same name. Kiyoharu had a steady hand in a business, the view from his office of the skyline breathtaking along with the floor-to-ceiling wall window that was currently his display picture rather than an actual selfie. The lack of pictures made him scroll further until he found a link to his Instagram page, and Kouyou’s jaw tensed.

“Next one,” Yuu ordered, smoothing on one of many flyers that promoted the school’s winter dance during free period. Kouyou ignored him. Rather, he didn’t hear him. He wasn’t being much of any help already, especially since he couldn’t stop himself from scrolling through Kiyoharu’s Instagram like fucking Inch High, Private Eye.

With the winter formal dance and winter break steadily approaching, one would think that Kouyou had more than enough to worry about than play detective. He had a team to carry on to victory through the season, needed to keep in tip-top shape – get fitted for a goddamn tux for a dance he had no interest in going to. Instead, he was here wasting valuable time, softly frowning at his phone with a displeased upturn of his lips. The guy looked about mid to late-thirties with shaggy auburn-dyed layered hair, eyes lidded when he wasn’t hiding behind sunglasses and selfies a little on the unclear side by thick clouds of smoke from vaping. There wasn’t anything remotely attractive about him in Kouyou’s eyes, yet this was the guy wasting Takanori’s time? _This_ was the guy Takanori cried for?

“Kouyou.”

What a piece. He couldn’t be sure, though. How would he know? All he had was an assumption and little to no breadcrumb trail of someone he believed was the man Takanori… secretly dated? Had a fling with under the radar? A fling ending didn’t result the damage Kouyou spent part of his Saturday morning playing clean-up crew before leaving through the teen’s bedroom window when they realized his mom was home, making a ruckus cooking breakfast downstairs.

The memory was enough to ease his frown, coaxing something soft and warm with amusement when he recalled Takanori’s sleep-mused hair and flushed cheeks when he yanked a beanie over Kouyou’s equally-mused hair after dressing to leave, thanked him, and damn-near shoved him out when his mom knocked on his bedroom door. Although, it couldn’t have been a secret. Unless…

 Holy shit, how old was he again?

“Kouyou!”

“What?” Kouyou’s eyes snapped up in startle at the call of his name, and he met Yuu’s perplexed gaze.

“I’ve been telling you to give me the next flyer for the past minute,” Yuu frowned. “Who’s got your thong snugged on too high? Peep some shady subtweet about you on Twitter?”

“No. I’m not even on Twitter right now.”

Yuu paused thoughtfully. “Linda leaving some suspect comments on Instagram again?”

“Wh– _No_ ,” Kouyou stressed, pressing the home button on his phone to exit out of the social media app before Yuu could get an eyeful of what he was looking at, handing over a new flyer. “That’s… No. It’s nothing. I’ve just been a little out of it since Friday.”

“No kidding,” Yuu hummed a sympathetic little noise as he accepted the flyer, plastering it on the wall above a trashcan and securing it with tape. “That’s why you ditched me Friday night?”

“Pretty sure it was _you_ that ditched _me_.” It wasn’t like Kouyou hadn’t looked around for Yuu before leaving. If anything, he had lost him way before knocking back one too many shots with Yutaka. Then again, he had lost him, too, when he had been whisked away. “Where were you, anyway?”

Yuu busied himself, opting to fiddle with the hair tie around his wrist and gather his dark hair in a messy ponytail rather than meet Kouyou’s gaze with an uncharacteristic look in his eyes, falling unusually silent.

Yuu grumbled something under his breath with a shrug of his shoulder. “You got a ride home, didn’t you?”

“Yeah,” Obviously. “So what? _You_ were my ride. We went to Yutaka’s _together_.”

“You got home in one piece. As long as you got there safe and you’re able to play for the rest of the season without a hiccup, _captain_ , then you’re good.”

 Kouyou frowned. If he didn’t know any better, he’d say that Yuu was avoiding the inquire. He was tense, undoing and regathering his hair for a higher ponytail when it must have felt too loose or his hands didn’t have anything else to do when he didn’t have anything to tape on the wall; Kouyou didn’t hand him over anything. And he didn’t intend to. Not until he pulled out what Yuu was hiding from him. It was futile to even try when they practically grew up together since diaper days and sitting on Santa’s lap during the holiday and crying in unison until they outgrew it was early childhood tradition.

“You know I can tell when you’re lying, right?” Yuu often got jittery when he was nervous, defensive for no reason at all. His mouth readied to grill him, press for an answer–

“Mr. Takashima.”

–If it weren’t for a passing teacher butting in.

 Kouyou’s jaw snapped shut and he glanced over his shoulder to look in the direction where he heard his name, only to swear under his breath. “Mr. Sugihara,” he greeted back dryly with a slight nod of his head. Or Sugizo, he openly encouraged to be addressed by staff and student body alike. He would rather do without the unpleasantries of an uptight air.

“A moment, please?”

Kouyou nodded before looking back to Yuu, whom seemed relieved and more than willing to let him leave, and handing over the leftover flyers. He shoved both phone and his hands in the pockets of his lettermen jacket and turned to approach Sugizo with Yuu’s silent encouragement, barely noting his assurance he’ll linger close by.

“You’ve got some assignments you haven’t turned in for my class, and you haven’t been attending art club recently,” Sugizo said lowly, a touch of concern knitting his eyebrows. “Everything all right?”

“Yeah. The season started, and I can’t really,” Kouyou paused, vaguely gesturing with a half-assed creative wave of his hand before shoving it back into the warmth of his pocket once more as he rocked on the balls of his feet as non-awkwardly as he could with guilt breathing down his nape. “And lately, detention.” That was being well taken care of during his free periods. “But I, uhm… I’ve been thinking of dropping it, anyway.”

During the years, his father never once took well to his teacher and how he carried himself. Just knowing that he was an art teacher, an artist that saw promising potential in his son and dared to encourage he waste his life applying for art colleges and chase something that wasn’t realistic, tended to put a damper on anything. Seeing Sugizo, let alone still stuck with taking his class, made his stomach twist uncomfortably when he made himself fall short in the assignments given to him on purpose. Ditching the after-school art club meetings were and easy feat when he had a team to carry on his shoulders. But lying to the man he’s spent his entire high school career looking up to? Making excuses for himself? That was an entirely different matter.

Sugizo’s gaze lingered on him and Kouyou looked elsewhere, unable to fully face him for too long. His conscious wouldn’t let him.

“If you feel it’s best for the sake of your schedule…” Sugizo said slowly. It wasn’t, but it would be one less thing to fight and pick down to the very marrow with his father over. “But that isn’t any excuse for the assignments you’re falling behind in class-wise. A _partnered project_ that’s a big portion of your _grade_. “

“I know,” Kouyou said lowly as his jaw tensed and he nodded stiffly, ducking his head and finding his shoes to be more interesting to stare at than the brunt of disappointment that softened the ends of Sugizo’s eyes. Sugizo sighed. At the shrill ring of the bell for class to end and lunch block to start, Kouyou’s eyes raised.

“Drop by my classroom later. We’ll discuss what you can do to bring up your grade.” Sugizo gave a careful pat to Kouyou’s shoulder and squeezed, stepping around him afterwards to head down the hall before students spilled out and congested the halls.

“Yeah, later.” The boy mumbled, a deep sigh deflating his shoulders. He gingerly pinched the bridge of his nose to wean off the beginnings of a surfacing headache and tilted his head back, briefly closing his eyes. Yuu circled back his way, and the expression on his face must have told it all, because he found himself welcoming a hand on his shoulder and a tight squeeze without a word. Silent comfort.

Before they made the decision to head down to lunch, something from an unfamiliar place inside him jolted at the sight of Takanori filtering out of a classroom in a subdued manner, standing in the threshold waiting to blend in with the others that made ruckus in their endeavor to reach the lunch room as soon as they could. The surprisingly strong urge to approach him was a foreign visitor that Kouyou couldn’t place, whether it was unwanted or not. But the way Takanori seemed to search for someone until he found what he was looking for made the decision for him as he watched the shorter teen perk up a bit with the presence of a blonde joining his side. It was no one other than Akira Suzuki, he realized, and he watched as the pair paused to talk for a bit before Takanori moved to hoist himself on the blonde’s back with ease and carried.

“Let’s go find Linda and eat off campus today,” Kouyou suggested as he turned on his heel to walk in the opposite direction, the offer like cotton sticking to the roof of his mouth and leaving no room for his tongue to comfortably rest. “I’ll drive.”

What concern he may have had that kept him tethered to Takanori was stomped down with force, clipped away its remains that smelled of menthol, its hue the bloom of sunrise after a long night with the phantom memory of body heat so well-slotted in his arms on Takanori’s window seat, and he made the decision to walk away as his phone burned a hole in his pocket with breadcrumb trails and assumptions. He had far too much on his plate to worry about than someone that wasn’t his business.

 

►►

 

If only it was that easy. There was Kouyou’s word and what he said he wasn’t going to do, and then there was the universe conspiring against him.

Sugizo’s itinerary to get him back on the right track to have a fighting chance to pass his class included putting in time to help set up an off-campus art exhibition for students in his class that gained the opportunity to showcase like community service – which Yuu laughed at; he wasn’t the only jail bird, after all – and do the partner project that was a big chunk of his grade. He wouldn’t get full credit, but something was better than nothing and Kouyou was willing to take what he could get.

As always, anything that was too good to be true came with a price one way or the other. Sugizo suggested he pick a classmate to work with, only to T-bone him with a:

“Matsumoto hasn’t done the previous assignment, either…” Sugizo frowned with a deep sigh, more than likely wrestled with resisting the urge to set both his gradebook and desk on fire and contemplate his life choices that landed him with students that didn’t do his work instead of going after his dream of being a full-time freelance artist. Instead of telling him to get the fuck out like he deserved, he said, “How about this. You pair up with him for your project, you put in the time for the exhibition before the winter formal and turn in your messing assignments before winter break, and you walk away a free man.”

Thus, the very reason why he was standing outside of Sea of Ink in the dead of winter like an idiot.

Kouyou didn’t have much of a choice. He did, but they were both aware that he wanted a future where he could keep playing a seamless season, and Kouyou… didn’t want to disappoint his teacher more than he already had.

Takanori hadn’t answered any of his text messages when Kouyou reached out to him after stepping out of Sugizo’s classroom. Having his number was convenient, the slightest show of mercy given to him that saved time and reduced the chances of embarrassing himself asking one of the outcast’s colorful bunch of… friends for his probable whereabouts. He had a higher chance with asking Yutaka, but he wasn’t sure just how close the president of the school’s newspaper was with Takanori to know his schedule. So, Kouyou took his chances and stopped by the coffee shop he knew the boy worked at. When he got there, all he found was some lanky kid behind the counter without an inch of snark masquerading behind a façade of an upbeat, willingly friendly barista that didn’t sweetly tell him to fuck off.

He had half a mind to ask if he knew Takanori and whether he was working a shift today, but his tongue didn’t cooperate with him and he ordered two hot chocolates to-go. It was no wonder he was looked at oddly, now. With hands filled with piping hot beverages and standing stupidly in the middle of the sidewalk, did he intend to go in or walk back to where he parked his car and sit there until Takanori surfaced out at some point? If he did the latter, Takanori’s drink would grow cold, his money would be wasted for naught. And he was sure he wouldn’t appreciate a cold drink on an even colder night…

“Fuck it.” He grumbled under his breath and strode forward, opening the door the best he could and entered.

Sea of Ink was nothing like the first time he stepped foot in the poorly advertised establishment. It was alive, Guns N’ Roses’ _“Welcome to the Jungle”_ blaring from the speakers, and he paused in awe to soak it all in. In the light of day, bustling and thriving, it still wasn’t exactly what Kouyou would have imagined a tattoo parlor to look like, but it was like falling down a rabbit hole and landing in another universe. From the outside, he would have looked all over this place and how shady it was tucked away from the public if Takanori never brought him here. Now…

 _“You know where you are?! You’re in the jungle, baby! You’re gonna diiiiiiieeeeeeeeee!”_ Axel Rose screeched at him from the speakers. It was hard to enjoy the excitement sparked from familiarity of a song he hadn’t heard in ages when he caught the attention of a man occupying the front desk just beyond the aquarium, looking up from jotting something down in a folder. He was short, couldn’t be that much taller than Takanori if at all, with a piercing demeanor and gaze that gave off the impression of being standoffish, intimidating; cold.

“You got an appointment, kid?” The man asked coolly, his gaze homing in on Kouyou with a furrow of his barely existent eyebrows.

“N-no,” Kouyou replied, walking up to the desk with a clear of his throat and squared his shoulders back, looking down at him and noting his tattoo sleeve on both arms that were exposed under the short sleeves of the black button-down shirt he wore, the sleeve spreading to the back of his right hand; a hint of another tattoo on the left side of his neck and dark roots a stylish contrast to his dyed-blonde hair, cut and styled in a purposely messy manner. Kept in place by styling gel, undoubtedly. “I, uhm… I’m looking for someone.” The man arched an eyebrow – barely there, but just enough for Kouyou to know – obviously expecting him to continue. “Takanori?”

Almost immediately, the blonde’s gaze hardened in a scowl and he straightened his posture, not self-conscious in the fact that he had to tilt his head back a bit to meet the boy’s gaze as he folded his arms across his chest. He looked at Kouyou as if he were dissecting and analyzing an insect that wasn’t worth breathing, and the teen swallowed. Yeah. There was a probability that he wasn’t gonna make it out of this jungle alive.

“ _You’re_ his asshole ex-boyfriend? You’ve got balls showing up here. Haven’t you done enough?”

Kouyou gaped, his jaw slack in surprise. _Boyfriend_? “What? No! No, no– I’m– Jesus, no. I’m just a–“ What was he, exactly? “I’m a friend.” They weren’t exactly friends, but they weren’t not friends, either, he supposed. “He hasn’t been answering my text messages, and I was looking for him. Is he here? I thought I’d… check in on him.” Despite trying to save himself from being hauled out – size wasn’t something Kouyou underestimated, and he wasn’t going to start now – and beaten to within an inch of his life, he was also telling the truth. It didn’t really spark him that this man was aware of what was going on in Takanori’s life, especially when the blonde eased up just a bit, until later.    

The man fixated him with a mildly peeved, but still apologetic, look. _Why didn’t you say that sooner_ , his gaze asked. Kouyou helplessly shrugged his shoulders. When his eyes flickered over his shoulder after looking down at his occupied hands Kouyou followed it, only to be faced with a sign in big, bolded lettering plastered on the wall:

 **NO SMOKING**  
   **EATING**  
      **DRINKING**  
  **IN THIS AREA**

…Oh.

Well, then. That idea of sitting in his car to wait didn’t sound so bad, after all. But he must have visibly deflated a bit, because the older man deeply sighed and motioned at him with a vague wave of his hand.

“You got a name, ‘ _friend_ ’?”

“Kouyou,” he replied, shifting his weight a tad nervously from one foot to the other under the air of the other's dry sarcasm. “Kouyou Takashima.”

“All right,” The older man hummed in a seemingly bored drawl, closing the notebook he was writing in before beckoning with his tattoed hand. “follow me.” He ordered, and Kouyou lumbered right behind him as told. He led them down a short hallway with two doors on each side, past the open stations that buzzed with artists at work. Checking to see if Kouyou was close behind him with a quick glance over his shoulder, he knocked thrice on one of the doors.

“Taka,” the blonde mumbled. For a second, Kouyou frowned. How the fuck was anyone gonna hear him if he spoke so lowly? But someone had heard him, and he blinked in surprise when Takanori’s voice, muffled as it was, called back to grant entry. The man turned the doorknob and pushed it open just enough to peek inside.

“Kyo?” Takanori’s voice greeted after cutting off the tattoo machine, albeit with a confused lilt that made Kouyou a tad restless. Anxious. Second guessing. What if he purposely ignored his messages because he didn’t want to be bothered with? Actions spoke louder than words, and if he wanted to be bothered, he would have answered him three messages ago. So, why was he here, standing with hot beverages waiting on the judgment of whether he would be told to fuck off or not?

Except, he hadn’t been turned away. Kyo looked over his shoulder at him and cocked his head with a pointed look. “You mess up anything, you pay for it. Got it?” Kouyou didn’t have to test him. There was an air around Kyo that gave off the vibe that if he said it, there was no chance in hell that it was empty enough to be a threat. It was a promise.

“Crystal clear.” Kouyou assured with a nod of his head. It had to have been a good enough answer, because Kyo left him and the cracked open door. With his departure, he could breathe a little easier as he watched the small man make his way back down the hallway before peeping inside the room where Takanori resided. The petite teen sat at a chair, latex gloved hands holding both an orange and tattoo machine. Their gazes met and Kouyou paused after gently closing the door behind him, resting his back against it.

“Hey.” he greeted quietly. No matter how much he couldn’t read Takanori’s gaze, relief flooded the lining of his stomach as Takanori’s tensed shoulders relaxed gradually when neither of them looked anywhere else.

“Hey.” Takanori murmured in response, just as quietly, mirroring Kouyou’s soft tone.

Guns N’ Roses’ _Sweet Child O’ Mine_ blared from the speakers above them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's almost about that time, my dudes... -eyes emoji-


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You see that? That, my shit for brains friend, is what we call a lawsuit for negligence.”

Oranges. There were so, so many oranges. Almost all of them were unique in their own way with a different design decorating each one. Some of them were shaded, and others contained simple, neat linework that was impressive. It drew Kouyou in instantly.

“What are you doing?” Kouyou asked as he handed Takanori the drink he bought for him, daring to pick up a stray orange with a blooming rose tattooed on it.

“Use your imagination, Captain Obvious,” Takanori said in a voice laden with sarcasm as he took a grateful sip from his hot chocolate the moment it was given to him once setting aside the tattoo machine, despite his previously perplexed look after lifting the lid to sniff curiously at its content. It made Kouyou frown, confused how he should feel about the oddity of his actions. Had he thought he slipped something into it?

“Freak,” Kouyou grumbled, a teasing lilt to match the faint upward curl of his mouth.

“Fucktard,” Takanori hid what looked to be amusement behind the lid of his drink. ”What the fuck are you doing here, Takashima? Don’t tell me you came just to see little ol’ me out the kindness of your heart. And with a drink to boot, no less.”

Kouyou had the audacity to cringe. “Don’t flatter yourself,” he deadpanned. “I went by the coffee shop first, but you weren’t there. I wouldn’t be here if you bothered to answer my text messages in the first place.”

“So, the first thing you did when you couldn’t find me was to buy me a drink and travel all over the city instead of wait like a normal human being for me to see your text.” Takanori regarded him with a dubious look. “All beauty and no brain. What a waste.”

It wasn’t like that at all, and Kouyou opened his mouth to make that very, very clear. He just needed to ask him about assisting him in Sugizo’s art project and a response couldn’t be put off for later. He needed to know now, right then and there, and get it over with. But, suddenly, he remembered what he told Kyo and his tongue felt like lead weight in his mouth.

_I thought I’d check in on him._

It had been a lie to escape the elder’s wrath, yes, but if he were honest with himself his response came from a genuine place inside him that he had no clue existed until recently, and he didn’t know what to do with it. That was where the problem rested. He didn’t know what to do with it, and he didn’t know what to do with Takanori now. Not after Friday night. What transpired then had shaken Kouyou to a degree, and he didn’t know why.

He had the entity of Saturday morning to ponder a reasonable explanation for it as he trudged his way through the cold after almost falling flat on his back out of Takanori’s bedroom window the moment he was shoved out. He had Sunday as well, tossing the midget’s beanie up in the air towards the ceiling and distractedly catching it as he stared unseeingly at it while lounging in bed; homework forgotten, and text messages belatedly answered. Confusion abated to something on the tip of his tongue that was still out of reach until now. Now, it was slowly dawning realization.

Takanori was human.

As absurd as that sounded, he was a human being with thoughts, problems, feelings – no matter how much the teen proudly boasted about not having any of the latter – hopes and dreams. He was more than the judgment and label they both painted each other with from the moment they had their first spat and drew a line in the sand to divide themselves. Kouyou had assumed that he knew who Takanori was, what he and his kind was like, without genuinely taking the time to asses and consider the fact that Takanori might be more than just a thorn in his side hellbent on making his life a living, breathing hell since the beginning.

For some reason, being made to realize that Takanori was not as cut and dry as his perception made him out to be was a blemish on Kouyou’s bubblegum-tinted world and it scared the shit out of him. It was almost too much, but not nearly enough as the weighted thought that he cared enough to even…

But he did care. The proof resided in the bought drink Takanori sipped from as the teen eyed him dubiously, and how he found himself checking for any puffy redness outlining Takanori’s eyes, any hint of ribbons of salt residue on his cheeks to cheek if he cried today. He was here, wasn’t he? For his own gain, no less, but he was here even when he didn’t have to be and that spoke volumes Kouyou wasn’t sure he was ready to dive further into.

His silence was too prolonged for the shorter youth’s liking, and he slowly shook his head in feigned disbelief. “Jesus, I was right,” Takanori said in mock awe, “you really are stupid.”

“Give me back my drink, then,” Kouyou snapped moodily, wrestling down a flush. Did Takanori say he was… pretty? “It’s stupid, too.”

“You’ll have to pry it from my cold, dead hands, Shima.” And just to be a little shit, Takanori tried to chug down as much as he could when he thought Kouyou took a step closer to confiscate the sugary beverage back, holding up his leg to ‘ward him off’. “Next time when you buy me a drink, just get me a coffee. And one of those snow frosted little bitches.”

“Fuck no. There won’t be a next time after this,” Kouyou waved a hand through the air as if to bat away the slightest possibility of such a thing manifesting into reality. “You’ve got some way of thanking me for the hassle.”

“Me not wasting this drink is a thanks in itself.” Takanori shrugged him off with a grunt. That is, until something else that was more deserving of his attention crossed his mind. “Wanna see somethin’?” he gestured to the small group of oranges beside him. “Pick one.”

Kouyou cautiously eyed the caustic boy before crossing over and squatting at the knees to filter through his options. Mixed amongst a few blank oranges the designs were simple, drawn on with ballpoint blue ink. In the end, he picked one with an inverted triangle containing a chrysanthemum inside it. From where he sat Takanori lightly pressed the pedal by his foot and a loud buzzing noise filled the air.

“See what I’m doing?” When Kouyou nodded, Takanori continued. “When I press on the pedal, it sends energy through the machine. That same energy magnetizes the two coils in the handle.” The machine’s silver handle housed said two long coils. From there, a long metal rod descended with a round metal grip residing just below the base of the barrel. “That magnetism moves this bar at the top. See? We call it an armature bar, and that’s what’s fueling the needle. Got it?” Kouyou nodded again. Takanori smirked. “ _Good boy_.”

It put Kouyou off, the underhanded casual mockery called praise. The problem didn’t rest in him not being used to it, because he was one way or the other. It was _how_ it was said, wrapped pretty in a near purr. His jaw slacked in a way that made him think he looked struck _dumb_ , and heat stung the back of his neck in an unforgiving blush, consuming all it could reach and then some. He didn’t know what was worse: the fact that his flush could be felt from his very hair follicles to the tips of his fingers or the sweep of Takanori’s gaze as he looked at him with a revigorated sparkle in his eyes.

“I will pelt you,” Kouyou warned, eyes narrowing in a pointed glare. “Don’t test me. You’re playing a dangerous game when I’ve literally got oranges in my arsenal.” Who threatens a man with oranges? He did. Did he feel ashamed? The answer was a hard no in his book.

“You pelt me, I’ll kick your ass.”

A derisive snort. “If you can reach that high.”

“Don’t worry. I have my massive dick to boost me up.”

His massive di– Kouyou cringed. Nope. It wasn’t worth rethinking that, let alone imagine, in the least bit. But, of course, Takanori noticed. The evidence was proof in the pudding the moment a shit-eating grin curved the edges of his mouth.

“You _so_ just thought about my dick.”

“I _just thought_ about how much I wanted to castrate you if it gets you to shut up.” Kouyou corrected darkly as his eyebrow twitched in annoyance.

“Oh, honey bunch,” Takanori’s voice dripped with saccharine, sardonic cadence with a sugary smile as he hid his snicker behind a sip of his hot chocolate. “You’d have to get a nice handful of my junk to do that.”

Kouyou didn’t know whether to strangle him or poor his hot drink on Takanori’s crotch, but he didn’t want to waste it nor his money that he spent for it, so he had no choice but to groan miserably. This was normal. This, their endless banter and disagreements, was their normal, but there was something different about it as well that Kouyou didn’t have time to mull over and soak in when Takanori encouraged him to hand over the decorated orange he picked.

“I don’t have the patience nor the time to be bothered with your stupidity right now. Okay. Pay attention.” As if he hadn’t just insulted Kouyou’s intelligence, Takanori sat his cup aside with care before picking back up the tattoo machine. “You hold this a little like a pen,” he told him, gesturing for Kouyou to watch him grasp it. “The rest of it sits behind the knuckles, and you rest your hand on the skin. In this case, orange. Press down on the pedal…” The machine’s boring noise Kouyou heard previously muffled from the other end of the door resumed. “And then press it to the outline.”

The needle connected to Takanori machine moved so quickly that it blurred. Kouyou watched in awe as it was pressed into the orange and followed the outline. Takanori left an evenly smooth black line behind, with just a bit of ink smudging onto the rind just outside of it. Takanori wiped the residual ink off, leaving a neat and stark black line behind that formed the inverted triangle. Though, an area looked too thick than intended but it was still impressive to Kouyou.

“Wanna try?”

The proposition was unexpected and took him by surprise. “Are you serious?”

“I wouldn’t have asked if I wasn’t,” Takanori rolled his eyes. “Go grab some gloves over there by the corner station and I’ll let you have at it.”

A small bundle of excitement nestled in the pit of his gut was what drove Kouyou to do as told after placing aside his drink and shrugging out of both his varsity jacket and winter scar, placing a glove on over his hands and creating a loud _smack_ ing sound as he tugged at the wrist and released. Once he was finished, he replaced Takanori in the seat, grabbing for the machine with his right hand. Takanori handed over his irons, placing it into Kouyou’s hand so that the heavy part of the machine rested on the back of his hand.

The tool he held in his hands had the power to mark skin forever, and it was an exciting thrill to wield it that warmed him from the inside. But the touch of the smaller youth’s hand on his made Kouyou’s heart stir, skitter, and he tried his best to focus on the machine. It was a little heavier in his hold than he expected it would be.

 “Step on the pedal.”

And Kouyou did, only for that same buzzing to accentuate the room.

Even when he knew what to expect, the sound and sensation both shocked him. The vibrations of the heavy metal were strong against his hand and ink fell from the needle’s tip, coating a splotch of the orange in an inky black mess. Worried, he took his foot off the pedal.

Takanori snorted, offering him a wipe to clear away the mess Kouyou made with his glove-coated thumb.

“You wanna try making actual contact this time around?”

“Bite me.” Kouyou grumbled.

“Nah. Something tells me you’d like that a little too much.”

 Kouyou tossed a flat glare over his shoulder before focusing his attention back on the glove. He placed his foot on the pedal once more and tried again. This time, he slowly brought the tip onto the orange rind, moving it forward. Some ink still escaped and spilled from the tip, but much less than last time.

“It’s normal for that to happen, especially when it isn’t skin. Just wipe it off so you can see what you’re doing and keep going.”

Kouyou nodded, wiping off the ink. He saw the slightly raised black line he’d left behind on the orange, how it varied in thicknesses with evidence of his shaky hand. And it looked… horrible.

“Try to apply a more consistent amount of pressure and make smaller movements.”

Kouyou frowned, moodily sucking his teeth. He hadn’t expected to be good, but he honestly didn’t expect to be ridiculously horrible at this, either. Tracing a line should be easy. Sure, he was out of touch with actually drawing, but this was an entirely different medium and he had to be patient with himself, he supposed. Bucking against the urge to drop it entirely, he continued to follow the blue ink design from Takanori’s pen.

The vibrations of the tattoo machine weren’t dramatic, but it threw him off. He worked for several more seconds before wiping off the orange again to have a better view for direction.

“Mm… Better,” Takanori remarked lowly. “You’re going at too steep of an angle, though. Hold on a second.”

Takanori left, leaving Kouyou alone as he shifted his foot off the pedal, only to comeback with a stack of magazines from the tattoo parlor’s waiting area in his arms. The stack was tall enough just for Kouyou to rest his arm on for the comfortable angle of his wrist. It was a much more comfortable angle for his wrist.

“Press down on the pedal again.”

Kouyou obeyed, applying pressure and bringing the machine right back to life. The moment he did Takanori reached forward, and Kouyou felt the heat of his body pressing in behind him as he did so. The boy placed his right hand directly over Kouyou’s and slowly guided him. The support of Takanori’s smaller hand insulated the impact of the vibrations, helped with balancing the irons, but it was the last thing Kouyou’s mind could be bothered with.

There was an art to how skillful Takanori’s hand guided him. So much smaller than his, yet sure of the direction he was taking as they inked the orange together – Takanori leading and he, simply following – made his heart beat a little harder. His mouth felt dry, so he licked his lips before chancing a glance behind him…

 Only to be flicked at the ear.

“What the _fuck_?”

“What the hell do you think you’re doing? Don’t take your eyes off your client for a second, dumbfuck.”

“I wasn’t,” Kouyou insisted defensively, glaring up at Takanori. “I _didn’t_. It’s not even a client. It’s a stupid fruit.”

“Fruit, client – it’s the same thing. And you’re _still_ not looking at the goddamned orange.”

“Yes, I am!”

“Are you, really?” Takanori asked, arching an eyebrow.

Now that Kouyou looked back at the orange, he noticed that his hand had went stray for the past second. There, right before his very eyes, a rogue line went down the side of the orange and cut through a portion of the inverted triangle.

“You see that? That, my shit for brains friend, is what we call a lawsuit for negligence.”

The absolute _nerve_ Takanori had. Kouyou’s jaw tensed in annoyance.

“The sole reason I messed up was because you distracted me.”

Takanori’s hand was still over his, his body heat still leaning over him. Hell, they hadn’t even moved an inch from their prior position, though Kouyou had taken his foot off the pedal the moment he noticed he’d fucked up.

Takanori scoffed. “Rule number one: when tattooing, concentration is crucial key. Mess up, and you’re royally fucked.”

“Flick me again, and I’ll fuck _you_ up.”

“Is that a threat or a promise?” The boy paused, as if suddenly recalling something from the back of his mind that Kouyou couldn’t see, only to lower his voice the moment he found it. “Though, this certainly wouldn’t be the first time I’ve distracted you, would it?”

“Are you coming onto me?” Kouyou asked incredulously.

“What if I am?”

Silence.

It was too loud, too stark, for Kouyou to bare, and it took his breath away all the same as surprise was reflected back at him in Takanori’s eyes. Dark, dark eyes that, after given a second to notice, were too close. He could see the way Takanori’s eyes flittered just enough to look down his nose, trace over the cupid’s arrow of his mouth before finding his gaze again and it made Kouyou’s mouth sting, a trembling huff filtering through his nostrils to match the stutter in his chest and the pit of his gut when Takanori’s other hand carefully cupped the nape of his neck. That same gut wrestled between the urges to shut Takanori up from talking any further and close what space barely separated them – give them both what they wanted, because the ghost memory of Taknori’s mouth was an itch he wanted gone, and maybe if he had it again it would leave him be – or shove him away. Call him out for his true intentions of getting under his skin, say that he was growing sick of this _game_ with him.

The resounding knock at the door made a choice for them both before Kouyou could tip his head up and chase after the brush of Takanori’s nose when the shorter youth dipped his head to test a chance of invitation, warm breath fanning over softly parted lips over a response that never left Kouyou’s throat; stuck and lodged there. Takanori drew away first and took his body heat with him, leaving Kouyou too hot in a skin that felt stretched too tight and left to watch as the boy went to go answer it. He could hear Kyo’s voice, as muffled and low as it was, and whatever the elder had mumbled made Takanori rub at his cheeks to wipe away whatever was on it before glancing over his shoulder at him.

“I’ll be back.” And Takanori was gone. Just like that. As if he _hadn’t_ just almost kissed the living hell out of him. The tension born from their banter breathed life into a want so strong it left Kouyou flushed and wrestling down the urge he had to pull Takanori back from leaving when he wasn’t finished dishing out his two cents of banter, arousal warm behind his navel and almost uncomfortable in the seat of his pants. At first, he didn’t believe it. He couldn’t.

There, in his jeans, stirred the beginnings of a hard-on and Kouyou almost choked in disbelief the moment his head didn’t feel too clouded.

It was impossible. There wasn’t a man alive that turned him on in the least bit possible. There was a difference between playing the What If game with Yuu and considering having sexual relations with men if they were women. But the thought of roughly kissing Takanori to shut him up and pull him into his lap? The thought of tasting his mouth, teasing his lip ring with his tongue again? He had wanted that, even if just for a second, and so did Takanori.

Kouyou deeply sighed, carefully rubbing the back of his wrist against his forehead. He couldn’t do this. Not right now. If he thought anymore of it, he…

He couldn’t afford to think what any of this could possibly mean for him, for them. Jesus, _them_. They weren’t anywhere near being a pair, but this included Takanori too, and there was an attraction, no matter how small, he – they – should discuss. A part of him wanted to nip it in the bud and call it a day before anything became something far too big to contain. But as Kouyou busied himself with pressing down on the pedal yet again, letting the noise of the tattoo machine drown out his train of thought as he a traced over the lines Takanori left and wiped away the ink, another part of him felt cheapened a bit. As if he were a… rebound.

Even if it was just an almost-kiss, it somewhat annoyed him. It wriggled under his skin and cooled down the near-erection he tried so hard to will down with the window frame given to him with Takanori’s absence. When the boy came back minutes later, he could sense him casually watching him as he stared at the orange so intensely. As he was told to, he wiped away the ink as soon as it became difficult for him to discern the lines Takanori had left, and it earned him a tiny hum of approval. Graciously, Takanori said nothing.

Kouyou couldn’t say his lines were nice. They were uneven in thicknesses, shaky and sometimes leaving the blue trace of Takanori’s marks altogether in splotchy areas. But it was soothing, no matter how many times he had to stop to readjust his grip or wriggle his fingers from discomfort. It allowed him to immerse himself in the work at hand, the buzz in his ears like white noise that drowned out thinking of his pen pal, an e-mail letter from his university of choice, the looming home that awaited him later, and for a moment, Takanori. He continued, completely focused and dedicated to finishing the work in front of him.

He heard Takanori rummage around, finishing off the remnants of his hot chocolate as he fiddled with his phone. Eventually, Takanori retrieved his sketchpad from his backpack and carefully pulled the extra chair he occupied to sit next to Kouyou, crossed his legs, and rested the pad on them to leisurely sketching away. The sound of the irons dulled his hearing somewhat, but sometimes noticed when Takanori shifted in his chair, or heard him flip a page in his sketchbook. Even if he wasn’t speaking to him, even if he wanted to be irrationally annoyed for something that may or may not be the case, simply knowing that Takanori was near soothed him.

The jock finished at long last, slowly putting the machine down and looking down at the orange with a critical eye. The scribble of pencil on paper ceased, and Takanori looked over to gaze at the fruit with him. At the very least, one could tell it was a flower in an inverted triangle. Sure, Kouyou had poked into the rind in a place or two, and the lines were jumbled. So, what? But now that his focus had relented, he felt a touch embarrassed by how horrible the product of his work had turned out. In front of Takanori, no less.

“It’s…” Kouyou paused, failing to find the right words to describe it. “Fucked.”

“Whose first attempt isn’t, right?” Kouyou expected Takanori to chide him, to harass him over not focusing enough, how shitty the line work was and the amount of pit craters that decorated the orange now. Instead, he was met with a slight nod of his head and a gentle nudge to his leg. It was only natural to return the gesture.

Kouyou shrugged a shoulder with a noncommittal hum, easing off his gloves. “What were you drawing?” he asked, pointing over at the boy’s sketchbook in his lap.

“Dicks. Penises. _Shlongs_ –“

Kouyou groaned loud enough to drown him out. “Forget I asked. I’m too tired to deal with your bullshit right now.”

Takanori snickered, grabbing the book and handing it over in the end; his own benevolent show of mercy. Despite the probability of finding a shit-ton of drawn penises, Kouyou opened it anyway to find a large drawing of an eagle amongst messily sketched profiles, the illustrated style an appealing stylistic realism. The way he drew each feather, in such detail, was captivating. It seemed so full, so soft to the eye. For a moment, he fuzzily remembered the canvas painting Takanori always lugged around.

“Is this the same bird you’ve been painting lately in detention?” Kouyou asked quietly, his eyes never leaving the pages he flipped back and forth between to compare the designed bird.

“Yeah, kind of. I’m thinking about making more instead of producing just one big piece for Sugizo’s class exhibition.”

Kouyou blinked, lifting his head to gaze at the boy in surprise. “You’re gonna be in it?”

“You would, too, if you took his class seriously.” A touch of concern colored Takanori’s soft frown. “You know how much he likes your work. When you put in effort, that is.”

Kouyou did know. It was the reason why he could barely swallow down his guilt when the teacher confronted him earlier today. “Yeah, well, I’ll be making up for lost time by helping with set-up at the exhibition location.”

Takanori whistled. “You lucky son of a bitch. Look at you, escaping weeks of missing work. All you have to do is show up and look pretty.”

“If only,” Kouyou sighed wistfully. “It’s… why I’m here, actually. I missed a big project recently and apparently, you’re missing something too. So, he suggested we pair up for the partnered project I missed, I help with the exhibition and work on the missing assignments before winter break.”

“…What I’m getting from out of this is that you _didn’t_ come all this way on your own free will bringing good tidings and cheer in a cup. I should have known you had ulterior motives. You’re bribing me.”

“I’m not!” Well, when Takanori placed it like that, it sounded kind of bad. He didn’t _have_ to buy anything. So, what if he bought two hot chocolates out of growing flush with awkwardness after asking of Takanori’s shift? “The happiness in a cup was a genuine gift. Aside from you not answering my text message, I genuinely wanted to check in on you. After… you know.” The comfortable air between them felt intruded on at the mention of Friday night. Legs pressed in lazily knee to knee, thigh to thigh, Kouyou could practically feel Takanori draw in on himself as he watched his gaze look elsewhere. “If you want to talk about it…”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” Takanori mumbled quietly, opting to reach for a blank orange and eye it over in his hold. “I wasn’t what he wanted anymore. I think I knew I wasn’t for a while when he was going through the legalized separation with his wife, but I thought I could pull it through on my own, despite the little to no effort of reciprocity given outside of ‘what ifs’ and spoken hopes and dreams. If I just… get through school, I thought. Get my shit together and show him that I could–” he shook his head.

 “You know that niggle in your gut you get when something’s off with someone you care about?” He looked to Kouyou then, and the taller youth nodded. “You feel the end drawing close in your bones before it even happens, and you don’t know what to do except hold on tighter until it’s there. In the end, I didn’t expect him to pick me. Even if I wanted him to. But I can’t make someone pick me. I shouldn’t have to, let alone pull and beg anyone to meet me halfway in anything. Maybe I’m just some kid that doesn’t know any better or I really, _really_ am a glutton for pain when it comes to this kind of shit, but I know what I deserve, and it isn’t that. _Never_ that.” Takanori’s voice grew tight with emotion, uneven and wet around the edges, and Kouyou’s thumb was quick to catch the slow roll of a tear as it tumbled down the round of his cheek. To his surprise, Taknaori leaned right into his touch for a solid few seconds as he closed his eyes to reel himself back in the best he could. “My mom always says that people enter your life for either a season or a lifetime, and I wished... I wanted... But I can dream, right?”

The memory of Takanori crying miserably into the dark of his bedroom struck at something within Kouyou he hadn’t been able to shake off since that night as his gaze softened at the boy’s teary whisper. “Yeah. Yeah, we can dream.” he quietly agreed as he cupped the side of Takanori’s neck to bring the shorter youth comfort with slow, soothing strokes of his thumb at his cheek. To stop him from drawing away and stay for the slow lower his head that had plans to plant the softest kiss he could muster to his jawline after guiding Taknaori’s head with his hands to tilt to a side so he could reach where a tear had slipped under and the corner of Takanori’s mouth. But the boy effortlessly turned his head to meet him with his lips when he reached his mouth instead, and Kouyou let him. _Encouraged_ him with a hand at the juncture where neck and shoulder met and his thumb absently brushing along his skin.

How could he not when it made him stop crying?  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy holidays and happy new year!♡


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Ooh, _language_ ,” Kouyou reprimanded teasingly. “You kiss your mother with that mouth?”
> 
> “I kissed _you_ with this mouth, and I don’t see you complaining.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look at that. We're upping the rating just to be on the safe side -eyes emoji-

 

Crying spells were normal after the ordeal Takanori was given. Kouyou expected it, had even looked for it, despite Takanori saying otherwise. He learned that Takanori didn’t like to cry and Kouyou discovered that he didn’t like the sight of him crying. As result it made him uneasy, conflicted between the urge to comfort or give space with a small lump lodged in the middle of his throat, and around Takanori he fell into the grey area of… kissing him. Just to make him stop. 

Said grey area was birthed from that ‘epiphany’ he’d been looking for. Whether he found it or not didn’t matter, but the kiss itself – both then and now –  didn’t mean anything and it certainly didn’t make him want to pursue Takanori for the taking now that he knew that he miraculously found something in a kiss from him that got his blood going and gifted back the ability to fully be engaged in the moment after so long. It would be a cold day in hell before the thought of dating him crossed his mind, but he liked kissing him. He liked how he felt around him, no matter how much they bantered and argued and weighed on each other’s nerves. Takanori was there for him when he needed someone to confide in and the least he could do was return the favor. Now, they were even.

Takanori found comfort in the slow swipe of Kouyou’s tongue that licked into his mouth, the taste of salt ignored for the exhaled little noise that Kouyou wanted to catch on the flat of his tongue and mull over its flavor while his mind had the pleasantry of locking it in for memorable keepsake. There had been no intention to deepen the kiss in the beginning, but the tears had finally stopped when he had, Takanori’s hands found his face and nape to keep him drawing away, and all talk and the opened sketchbook in Kouyou’s lap was abandoned for something… more.

More of nothing? More of something? Kouyou didn’t know. The moment for purpose and intent aside – an epiphany, solace – when they stepped back from this these exchanges meant nothing more than just what they were, right now. They went back to how things were _meant_ to be afterwards without a missed beat, and that was that. Not that Kouyou minded, because he didn’t, but he would be a fool to believe that their dynamic hadn’t changed one way or the other. Whether it was a shift for better or worse, he hadn’t figured that out yet. There wasn’t much room in his head to think when Takanori’s fingers found his hair and gave the sweetest little tug the moment his tongue swept along his with a subtle angle of his head, conveying silent gratitude in his own way, and Kouyou didn’t intend to make any.  

They kissed until their lungs pleaded oxygen, and even then, they hovered close. Breathing each other in, lingering in orbit and grazing parted lips together as if to silently ask if they were good so they didn’t disrupt the bubble birthed from their exchange. Takanori shook his head. Taking it as his queue to pull away for space, Kouyou made a move to draw away only to be halted by the boy’s hands at his nape, fingers still buried in his hair. He shook his head again.

“Give me a minute.” Takanori whispered, a little breathy, a little stretched, and Kouyou gave it to him in the form of a quiet brush of his thumb along the boy’s cheek. He watched as he leaned into it, visibly torn between wanting to indulge in another kiss or give chase to the caress. It lasted more than a minute, but neither seemed to mind. It was just enough to… soak in how kiss swollen Takanori’s lips had become, the splotchy flush at his cheeks and how easy it was to brush his lips back and forth along the boy’s lip ring – take it into his mouth and be the fuel that got Takanori going when he caught the silver jewelry between his lips and softly suckled.

 “I’ll take you home later.” It wasn’t a question. Kouyou wasn’t asking, he was telling, yet left just enough room for Takanori to decline and say otherwise. He didn’t, had let the offer wash over his lips in a soft exhale for a moment, and nodded his head.

“Okay.”

Sea of Ink closed at eight o’clock on the dot, no sooner no later. The pair filtered out behind Kyo and another tattoo artist with long brunette locks and blonde highlights spilling in loose curls past his shoulders with a stylish middle part. He was beautiful in a strikingly handsome way, and Kouyou felt gobstopped every time the man looked directly at him with a crack of a smile. Of course, Takanori didn’t miss out on noticing. He made sure to nudge him hard when the long haired elder turned to wish them a goodnight with a kind smile and Kouyou was too distracted trying not to openly eye him up with a mouth he couldn’t keep shut to say anything in return.

“Forgive him, Die. He’s challenged,” Takanori apologized, shooting Kouyou a look that made the boy in question flush on the spot. Die laughed. Nudging Taknaori back just as hard was the only palpable solution. Especially when he wasn’t being subtle about it.

“G’night.” Kouyou grumbled at long last with a small smile, but his shoulders subtly tensed at Kyo’s flat yet still piercing gaze that landed on him. The shorter elder said nothing other than a tiny grunt, lifting his hand in a halfhearted wave before looking to Takanori.

“Swinging by tomorrow?” Kyo asked.

“Yeah, that was the plan. Why? Trying to get rid of me already?” Takanori arched an eyebrow, rocking on the balls of his feet with a tiny, halfhearted impish smirk. It only made Kyo huff out a little chortle, if Kouyou could call it that. The hints of a smile showed at the corners of his eyes and a barely visible upward curl of his mouth.

“I’m counting down the months already with batted breath,” Kyo dryly retorted as he stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jacket, Die lingering close behind and patting his pockets down for a lighter the shorter elder was willing to loan him once noticing. “But, no reason. I’m looking for an extra hand on deck to work the desk.” Takanori nodded, assuring that he’d be there. However, before they could leave Kyo spoke up once more.

“Takanori,” It was the loudest Kouyou had ever heard Kyo speak since meeting him, and it seemed the surprise was no worse for wear judging by the look Takanori’s countenance showed. “It’s okay if he doesn’t want or need you. We don’t live for other people. He made his choice. I know it’s hard now,” his tone softened. “Mope and cry if you must. Cry as much as you want to, but make sure when you're finished, you never cry for the same reason again. Pick yourself up and keep going.”

Takanori’s eyes downcast, finding the sidewalk pavement more deserving of his gaze than the knowing look Kyo gave him. Most likely to stave off the urge tear up again. It was that possibility that made Kouyou step in a little closer into his space until they were pressed arm to arm. The wordless comfort coaxed Takanori to look up at him, his eyes shining with an overlay of unshed tears. Not nearly enough to spill over, no. But his gaze was steady with an empowered determination, as if he made his own decision right then and there before looking back to Kyo. Kouyou was only a silent support.

“I’ll see what I can do, old man.” Takanori said at long last. Whether he meant coming by to fill in a desk shift tomorrow or taking Kyo’s advice to heart, no one could be sure. He looked to Kouyou then, and the nudge he received was gentler than the last. He was ready to go home. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

Kouyou nodded. Neither one of them spoke of the returned gentle nudge he gave the shorter teen or how Takanori remained so close as they split ways with the tattooists, arms bumping together in comfortable silence as they braved the winter night together. The promise of snow was in the air.

The upheld façade Takanori hid behind was admirable. He tried his best, Kouyou silently noticed, to appear unfazed. Like it didn’t get to him, tear him down. But in the warmth of his father’s car as he drove, he could see the weariness in the boy’s eyes as he quietly watched the world bleed into itself in a blurred streak of lights when he spared a glance or two to make sure he was okay. A couple of times he almost dozed off, and Kouyou didn’t have the heart to wake him.

He knew Takanori’s address by heart at this point, so he didn’t have to wake him until he parked close to the sidewalk. Much to their own mutual surprise, Kouyou found himself unbuckling his seatbelt and stepping out with him; a silent offer to walk him to his doorstep. Takanori eyed him dubiously.

“If this is just to butter me into partnering up with you for that missing assignment, you can stop now. I already said I’d do it over the break with you.” Takanori said as he slowed down his pace on purpose so they could take their time at their own leisure.

“It’s not entirely part of my kiss-ass agenda, no, but close enough,” Kouyou gently bumped his arm against Takanori’s. “I’m just solidifying the fact that we’re on the same page here.”

“ _Right_ ,” Taknaori rolled his eyes, returning the nudge as they walked up the steps of his porch to reach his front door. He snorted in afterthought. “Never would have thought you to be an ass man, Shima.”

Kouyou gave way to a small shiver dancing down the length of his spine in familiarity, or dejavu. Strange… For a moment, he could have sworn he had this same conversation before.

“Well, we are. You can go, now. I don’t know how much of this playing nice with you I can take. I’m gonna break out in hives or something.”

“Trust, the feeling is mutual. It’s just for a minute, and the moment I step off this porch it’ll be back to what it was.”

Takanori eyed him from underneath the fan of his dark eyelashes. “Better make the best out of that minute, then, mm?”

Kouyou hesitated, yet only for a second. Just a second. He unwrapped his winter scarf from his neck and draped it around Takanori’s with care, only to use the leverage he had to pull the shorter teen closer. And Takanori complied – was so willing to step into his space and grab onto the lapels of his winter coat and hold himself there as he tipped his head up to hold his gaze.

“Text me if you need anything–“ He barely got the offer out into the open as Takanori gave an inviting pull so he could shut him up with his lips instead, and– Yeah. Yeah, he didn’t feel up to talking that much, anyway.

 It wasn’t harsh, but it was firm enough for Kouyou to take a hint when it was given to him. The feel of Takanori’s lips slotting over his own, smoothing nice and right over his lip jewelry, made him inhale a touch sharp through his nostrils as he was reacquainted with the object of his fascination again for the second time tonight. A hand braced itself at the nape of the shorter youth’s neck and gave a warning squeeze, but it must have been softer than intended in all the right ways. Tender, unintentionally affectionate. The way Takanori opened up for him with a low hum was a sensation that wasn’t easy to forget; how he kissed was all or nothing at all, the very definition of all-consuming, and Kouyou soaked it in like a parched man in the middle of a dessert on the precipice of dying from thirst after a far too long drought, finally tasting the sweet welcome of rain.

There was no rush. It was a slow, deliberated kiss that made something warm rush through his veins as Kouyou’s fingers gently twisted into Takanori’s dark locks at the base of his skull and angled his head enough to slot their mouths back together for a deeper kiss Takanori was willing to indulge. If the hands at the lapel of his jacket and the little noise his tongue had the pleasantry of tasting weren’t a motivator to keep going, he didn’t know what was. They kissed until the lightbulb flickered on above their heads, and even then, it took Takanori pulling away with a gasp of surprise, his gaze turning to look towards a nearby window where the curtains shifted to a steady still. As if someone had witnessed their entanglement.

Staying deathly still for seconds that felt like a stretch of eternity was the only solution they seemed to telepathically agree on, staring at the window’s curtains with dazed eyes and Kouyou’s heart thumping a mile a minute in his chest like a jackrabbit.

“Are your parents home?” Kouyou asked lowly with stiff caution, looking down at the boy that released a slightly nervous snort.

“Just my mom. I didn’t think she would be around this time, though. She normally isn’t.” Takanori’s nose carefully grazed Kouyou’s when he turned his head to look back up at him, his lips parting around silence that grappled for words when his brain seemed to finally catch up with his mouth’s motor ability once more. Kouyou raised his eyebrows questioningly. He knew he wasn’t much help, let alone in better condition. His lips lazily brushed back and forth over Taknaori’s and Takanori groaned, sharing and exchanging transparent white puffs of breath

“Make up your mind,” Kouyou whispered unto his lips, a teasing nudge goading the conflicted expression that crested Takanori’s countenance as the boy’s fingers remained its hold on his jacket’s lapels. “Am I staying or am I going?” The bubble of laughter that caressed the roof of his mouth was a little on the breathy side, crushed velvet to his ears and so tempting to slowly drag his tongue along the seams of his lip to take his time and taste that again, too. He didn’t, of course. The stretch of a smile mirrored back at him was what won in the end.

 “Get the fuck off my porch,” Taknori retorted, the familiar prickle of his tone rearing its head for the first time since his crying spell enough to make Kouyou’s smile crook. _There_ it was. “You’ve already overstayed your welcome. That minute’s been up.” It felt as if it had been more than a minute. Time tended to feel different when you’re nearly pressed up against someone, lips the crushed petal blush of his kiss bitten and overly sensitive in a constant state for more despite your lungs telling you otherwise after making out for who knows how long.

“Ooh, _language_ ,” Kouyou reprimanded teasingly. “You kiss your mother with that mouth?”

“I kissed _you_ with this mouth, and I don’t see you complaining.”

“Yet.”

 _It’s a nice mouth_ , Kouyou almost said. Almost. That kind of compliment would only make Takanori’s ego swell, and he’d be goddamned if he’d start handing him any now. Instead, he dipped his head down for one last kiss, softer and much more chaste, but still lingering long enough to feel Takanori melt into the hold of his hands that held him by his neck; his palm cupping his racing pulse and thumb skimming across his cheek.

One more kiss for the road and to get everything out of his system. One more kiss to place the boy at ease and smooth away the emotionally rubbed raw weariness from his countenance the best he could, replacing it with a rosy hue blooming at his cheeks and something in his eyes that made them darker than usual as they lingered in each other’s orbit with Kouyou’s thumb pausing at the corner of Takanori’s slacked mouth. Kouyou forced himself to pull away.

“Try not to break out in hives.” He called out over his shoulder. He didn’t need to turn around to know that Takanori waved him off with a pretty raise of his middle finger as he stood on his doorstep, his winter scarf around the boy’s neck. When he raised his own middle finger in kind without turning around, he could hear the beginnings of a chortle reach his ears carried by the winter wind, and it was enough to make him smile a touch crookedly to himself on the way back to his car.

The fact that he still wore Takanori’s beanie wasn’t lost to him, or that he had left his scarf behind as if upholding his side of an unspoken trade. His fingertips couldn’t stop tracing over his lips idly at stop lights on the way home, reluctance settling in his joints like a chill he couldn’t shake, wanting to _go back_ a weight on shoulders that couldn’t be pushed aside by the hot water of his shower or the decadently seasoned dinner his mother cooked as he partook in a family dinner that still felt strange without his older sister sitting across from him; not there to be the buffer needed to distract his father from eyeing him when he noticed the twinkle of jewelry at his ears that couldn’t stay hidden under his nose forever. He could take his father muttering under his breath how distasteful the accessories were, that he’s young and he’ll regret the choices he makes now when he gets older. He could take his mother countering that because he’s young, it’s age appropriate and suitable as she collected their dirty dishes to wash; if he doesn’t like it later on, he can just do away with them.

But Takanori had given him the piercings, and he didn’t regret that. So, he couldn’t take the thought of pegging Takanori as such. Not with the bubble of defense that whelmed within him and made his jawline tense with a wave of irritation. Sporting the piercings and having it look back at him in a reflection he often did his best to not look at for too long made him feel good about himself for once. It was a small progress, but progress none the less. It made him feel the most himself he’s ever been in a long time, and he couldn’t possibly see himself just ‘do away with’ so easily.

It was that train of thought that struck him the moment he reached the top of the stairs, just a couple of paces away from reaching his bedroom, and he was still reeling by the time he reached for his phone on his bed to check what messages and social media updates he fell behind in the span between bathing and dinner.

Just fifteen minutes ago, the labeled sender Queer Eye had texted him.

_10:00pm_

_Thanks for last night_  


Kouyou’s brows furrowed. Thanks for last night? He was thoroughly confused, put off even and tried to make sense of what could he had possibly done last night. But the memory of fumbling to apologize for Yuu in front of Takanori’s ring of dysfunctional friends and convey his gratitude for the teen taking him home on a night his car was trashed dawned on him so hard he needed to sit down. Just to let it soak in and let his eyes stare at the screen of his phone as he laughed. Cheeky bastard.

 

_10:18pm_

_You’re welcome, asshole_

 

 

►►

 

**Yes, yes and yes**

 

 **From:** [Fadless_Beauty@hotmail.com](mailto:Fadless_Beauty@hotmail.com)

 **To:**   [newyorkminute@live.com](mailto:newyorkminute@live.com)

**Monday, December 22, 2013 11:45 PM**

 

What? You aren’t spending Christmas with anyone? Then it’s settled. There aren’t any big traditions we have. It’s just me and my mom, and she works graveyard shifts 9/10 of the time. We eat breakfast at midnight and binge watch those ridiculous Hallmark Christmas movies until she must leave, but I can spend Christmas Eve with you. Or, you know, we can link up sooner and still plan for Christmas Eve. There’s this exhibition I’ll be in and I wanted to ask if you’d be able to come. I’m not sure if you know or care, but Mr. Sugihara is holding an exhibition off school campus for his class this Tuesday before winter break and I’ll be in it.  You don’t have to show, but I’ll be there showcasing, and I thought, you know, maybe we could meet sooner than later. There or afterwards, or something. That way, we can get out the anxious jitters first and enjoy Christmas Eve without being stupid, awkward hippos.

 (You’re impossible…)

Are you serious? I’d congratulate you, but this would have to do until I can in person. I’m vibrating with how happy I am for you. You deserve something good, Aetius. You deserve to feel good. So, what’s the problem? You like kissing him. Do you like _him_ or…? What’s up? Where’s your head at right now? Tell me everything!

That… is probably the cutest thing I’ve heard recently. What the fuck. Little Aetius sounds like a goddamn angel, and I’m sure nothing hasn’t changed much. Certainly, doesn’t seem like it. Awkward hippo and all, you are undoubtedly a different kind of precious (I may be biased, but you’ve proven more than enough that you are, so there’s that). It’s easy to lose track from the inner child the older we get, isn’t it? Sometimes, you just need a reminder. He’s still there, Aetius. Try to get back into doing what you used to love doing, see why you loved it in the first place and start from there. And it’s okay to not know what you want to do in five, ten years from now, no matter how much adults push us to know. We’re only seventeen, eighteen tops. We barely know how we’re gonna feel next week and they expect us to know what we’re gonna do for the rest of our lives? I call bullshit.

You aren’t bringing down the mood. Having these reflections with you are refreshing. I’m glad that we can have these deep discussions and share what’s on our mind. I don’t know, I think… I genuinely believe we could be something outside of this assignment and I can’t wait to see you, and have these talks face to face. I want to see you.

My childhood dreams? Pfft. I already knew what I wanted the moment I was consciously aware of it. My mom’s a peds nurse and my dad, although he isn’t part of my life, is a surgeon, so imagine her surprise when they get this kid that wants to make art for a living. Completely different field. I don’t think I’ve ever wanted anything else. Sure, I want to go to school for business. It’d be smart. I could own my own business later. But, at the end of the day I just want to create, see the world, get old, and move to Hawaii to make soap for the rest of my days with a dog as my only companion. Who knows, maybe that idea will change next week.

Three wishes? I’d wish for success, a vacation house near the beach to retreat to when I want a break from life, and that I’d met you earlier.

Now, the question that may or may not be a deal breaker: Do you prefer tea or coffee? How about you tell me what your three wishes would be.

 

**Rookie**

 

►►

 

He didn’t know why he did it, but he did it anyway and he was paying for it. Kouyou learned that Takanori falls asleep mid-text in the middle of the night into the wee hours of the morning. Or maybe it was him. They didn’t talk about much, but Kouyou found himself refraining from asking if he was all right; if he needed to call. Even if they didn’t speak, Takanori could sleep knowing that there was someone on the other end of the phone line, willing to be there for him. However, Rookie’s email was more than enough of a distraction, making him giddy in all the wrong ways.

Between Rookie asking him to meet sooner than Christmas eve – asking him to drop by the exhibition that was _mandatory if he wanted his grade to survive_ , no less – and Takanori, he didn’t know whether to let the flutter in his chest whisk him away or feel bad for feeling that way while he was supposed to be a comfort from afar. Whether he fell asleep in the middle of texting or not, he certainly did feel bad when he woke up to Takanori’s text that read as a simple ‘Gnite’. He apologized the moment he could when he had the time right after morning practice. Takanori never responded. Hadn’t even looked at him when they crossed paths in the hallway during class switch-overs. When their gazes did lock, with Linda under the casual rest Kouyou’s arm and her manicured fingers at the lapel of his letterman jacket as she rattled about their itinerary for the upcoming winter formal tonight, it was nothing more but a glance looking from the outside in as Takanori passed by with a friend of his own at his side. Gone in a blink of an eye, shunned out from a world that wasn’t his.

As if last night never happened.

“Kouyou, baby,” Linda hummed as she grabbed his jaw between her fingers and gently guided him to look down at her instead of the retreating back of the outcast. “Were you listening to me?

Kouyou wasn’t, but something was better than nothing and he found himself wrapping his arms around her and lowering his head for a chaste kiss on her lipstick-orchid lips. Guilt tried to eat its way into his conscious as he peered down at her with the memory of Takanori’s black and pink leather jacket lingering fresh in the back of his mind.

“Yeah,” he assured with a small smile, pressing another kiss to her lips and making sure to deepen it enough that wouldn’t get them flagged for public indecency by the roaming vice principle that he noted had given him a warning looking with a clear of his throat. Kouyou rolled his eyes. “I was listening. I’m just tired. I didn’t sleep much last night.” He curled a lock of her hair around his pointer finger absently, the back of his knuckles caressing her cheek. “It sounds good. Tell me what time I need to pick you up and I’ll be there. All right?”

If only it were that easy.

He should have known things wouldn’t go smoothly that night. Call it a hunch or intuition being off the meter, but Kouyou felt it in his bones. Despite starting the morning off on an odd but still pretty good start, his mood hadn’t risen much since then and he couldn’t explain why. It wasn’t Linda’s fault, or the lack of sleep. Hell, not even Miyavi strumming with all the chaotic annoyance in the world during music class, sing-songing that he owed him thirty dollars for being victor in their bet some time ago – his serenade was successful, and currently the buzz making its rounds like wildfire – with a shit-eating grin and waggle of overplucked eyebrows – was the reason. They were nothing but accumulations on top of a stress Sugihara and every other teacher shoved into his line perspective.

Everyone needed something one way or the other, and Kouyou was only but one person. There were so many projects, so much anxiety over it and an acceptance letter he’s been wringing himself over for the past month and a half that hadn’t come yet; too many people on his back when there was more than enough on his shoulders already. And the icing on the cake? His sister had the nerve to text him in the middle of the day stating she wouldn’t be able to make it in for Christmas.

“What the hell do you mean you’re _not coming_?” He snapped, a sneeringly hushed whisper while attempting to hide from the old librarian that looked at him suspiciously over her coke bottle-thick glasses.

“I just can’t! Not this time. I kind of already made plans,” Melissa’s voice ringed true with a remorseful pout. “Aren’t you going with mom and dad on that trip they annually go on or whatever?”

“No way. The only reason I even said I’d stay behind this time was–“ Kouyou took in a deep breath to calm himself. The only reason he even rejected tagging along with their parents was because Melissa mentioned spending Christmas with him last year. Either she forgot, or she was just as flitty as she proved herself to be. Whichever the case may be, it still didn’t quell the small sting of being forgotten. “What other plans could you possibly have on Christmas?”

“Vancouver, little brother,” she sighed dreamily. “At first, I was going to wait until the summer and bicycle there with a friend, but she has family there that she wants me to see for the holiday, so…”

 “…What?” Kouyou blinked, perplexed. “You’re meeting someone’s family. Why would you…” The only time anyone needed to meet someone’s family were if things were looking serious in a relationship, and the last time he checked Melissa wasn’t dating. Unless she didn’t tell him. “Mel–“

“No time to talk, pipsqueak! Aren’t you in school right now? I’ll fill you in later, don’t worry. I’ll make sure to send you something and make it up to you, too. I promise.” Kouyou’s silence must have been telling enough. The sigh that filtered soon afterwards with the softening of her tone was key enough. “I love you. You know that, don’t you?”

“...Yeah,” Kouyou deadpanned halfheartedly. “Sure. Enjoy Vancouver.”

“Kouyou–“

He ended the call with little to no remorse, resisting the urge to throw his phone aside on the table with a mood no better than it had been in the beginning of the day. That call had been his tipping point of no return, the very reason he showed up on Linda’s doorstep in a crisp tuxedo save for his tie to match the color of her extravagant dress and dainty coreset he didn’t know which would complement best, so he bought two for her to pick one from; his sour mood nothing short of a black cloud on a night meant to be effervescent.

Yuu told him he should smile when they had to follow their dates to take pictures before heading off to dinner. Kouyou promptly responded that Yuu should suck a dick mid-photography shot with the moodiest expression he could muster as they stood paired up on at the staircase of Linda’s friend’s opulent home. If he was looking for a fight, he wouldn’t get it with him. Yuu was in a strangely good mood for someone that complained the entire time while being fitted for suits in the first place. His date was a nameless face Kouyou couldn’t remember to save his life, but that was the point. So long as you showed up with a date on your arm, all was good until you got to the venue where you could ditch them later amidst dancing.

And ditch, Yuu did. The decorations for the event were impressively beautiful, there was no doubt about it, but Kouyou couldn’t bring himself to be as festive as his peers. He just needed to get through the night, and then he could fuck off, sleep away the mood that clung to him like a second skin, and resist the urge to check his phone and sink into writing a response email whilst simultaneously ignoring Taknaori’s chat history sitting in his message library. A part of him wondered if Rookie was there, dancing the night away. Did he like to dance? Kouyou didn’t really like it, but if asked he would for him.

Linda certainly hadn’t asked much, and that only served to piss him off when he found her into the arms of another in terribly dimmed lighting, holding the skirts of her dress as she grinded to the beat of the music. He was sulking at their table, sure, but she had ventured off without telling him where she was going while he sat there playing _coat holder_ while Yuu lingered by the punch bowl, undoubtedly trying to spike it with Yutaka hovering near by to dissuade any suspecting chaperone and teacher alike with a charming smile.

She didn’t deserve the intensity of how he lashed out at her for doing the same shit _every time_ they went out. He shouldn’t have to look over his shoulder every second to make sure she wasn’t slinking off to be on someone else’s arm when he wasn’t in vicinity. Kouyou always took the situation in stride before, willing to tolerate for the sake of silence and peace so long as everything fell back into place the way it should, but Kouyou was so _tired_. Tired enough to walk when she told him that he shouldn’t have come in the first place if all he was going to do was embarrass them. So, with a tensely set jaw and a sharp gaze that met the burn of Linda’s stare, he did them both a favor and turned heel, weaving himself through the crowd without a second glance back.

Where did he intend to go? He didn’t know. Sitting in his car to calm himself down was the original plan, at first. Perhaps wait out everything until the opportunity was given to him to approach Linda again in a more levelheaded manner and apologize. But pride was an obdurate thing, and his temper wasn’t nearly within the spectrum to play the waiting game. Not right now.

Sighing deeply, Kouyou scrubbed a hand over his face. He was too young to feel this exhausted. Home was probably the best option to go and retreat to, but he couldn’t bring himself to go back to that empty house. His parents had left to catch their flight right before he went to go pick up Linda, leaving him with a home they trusted him to not use inappropriately. Not that they’d know if he did or not, but…

Scrolling through his phone’s messages, his thumb landed atop of ‘Queer Eye’s’ contact info and he froze, worrying his lower lip. Something made him tap the ‘call’ icon, made him sit and listen to the dial tone until someone picked up at long last.

“Asswipe?” Takanori’s voice filtered from the other line in greeting. Kouyou barely held himself from snorting, the corner of his mouth twitching ever so softly in a poor excuse of a tiny smile. It hadn’t dawned on him that he hadn’t said anything yet until the sound of something shifting could be heard, the gentle clatter of a cup on a tabletop, maybe. “Shima, you there?”

“Yeah… No,” Kouyou expelled a deep sigh, passing a hand through his hair. He shook his head. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have called.”

“But you did,” Takanori’s disembodied voice pointed out with a hint of an edge that could almost be deemed as concern. “Everything okay?” Silence. More shuffling. “Are you too sloshed to drive? Do I need to come get you?”

A humorous bubble of soft laughter was enough to lift Kouyou’s spirit, despite how brief it was. Concern was a strange undertone to hear coming from the prickly boy and he didn’t know whether to smile to himself or be strangely put off.  “I’m not drunk. I’m just…” he bit his lower lip in thought. “Can I swing by for a minute?”

“…Yeah, sure.”

Takanori most likely agreed just to see for himself that he wasn’t driving intoxicated. It didn’t even cross his mind that he didn’t have a car of his own until he found himself parking in front of the Matsumoto household and braving the cold to reach the illuminated porch and ring the doorbell. The soft sound of locks giving way was what caught Kouyou’s attention first before the door opened to reveal the shorter youth, comfortable in sweatpants that looked too long for him and an oversized graphic t-shirt; a heavy blanket of sorts draped over his shoulders. Taknaori raised an eyebrow as he looked Kouyou over before meeting his gaze, He gestured for him to come in, closing the door behind them and locking out the cold that trailed in behind the jock.

“Nice penguin suit,” Takanori quipped behind him. Kouyou turned around to face him, his mouth ready for a quick retort before noting the critical search of Takanori’s eyes that looked at him. “You clean up nice, after all.”

“Is that a compliment I hear?”

“Not a chance in hell. You dress shit in a suit, and you think it’s gonna look any better than it normally does?” Taknori raised an eyebrow, a teasing glint in his eyes Kouyou wasn’t sure he was in the mood to deal with. From the looks of things, he didn’t exactly have a choice.

Kouyou shrugged. “I guess not.” Silence settled over them. He wasn’t in the mood to play this back and forth game with him, but the lull of silence gave Kouyou leeway for his own gaze to take in Takanori’s countenance as the shorter youth softly frowned, the homey allure he’d never seen before except for when he was nothing but a fretful flurry shoving him out of his bedroom window the other weekend. Even then he didn’t get a good look at him. Until now. Taknaori looked soft, smaller under so many layers, and warm. His eyes, though, were rubbed flush around the ends as if he’d been crying.

“My mom baked lasagna earlier before she left for work,” Takanori gestured towards the living room with a tilt of his head. “Take your shoes off and leave them near the door. You’re more than welcome to some if you want to sit and binge watch shitty movies for a bit.”

Lasagna and shitty movies were the best combination Kouyou didn’t know he needed until he had it. Takanori didn’t bother with plates, he discovered as he followed him to the living room. Instead, they ate from the dish his mom baked it in, eating neatly cut pieces of the pasta with their own respective forks that Takanori made sure to retrieve for him from the kitchen before settling beside him on the sofa. It was a strange feat to be in a home he’d visited before, yet never seen alive and lived in. The last time he stepped foot inside, they were both inebriated and Kouyou had no choice but to look for Taknori’s room on his own without guidance in the dark.

They didn’t speak of the reason why he showed up on Taknaori’s doorstep. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to, if he were to be honest. There was a window between unbuttoning his blazer and the offer of dipping into Takanori’s mother’s alcohol stash for a shot – just _one_ , for the sake of driving home later – to do so, but Kouyou felt he deserved the second shot handed to him and the shoulder that pressed against his as they shared Takanori’s blanket more than anything.

 “What happened?” Takanori asked lowly.

"Hmmm." He didn't give Takanori an answer. Not one that could be of decent use, at least, because while they were trying this 'open' thing and sharing after their last entanglements, Kouyou just didn’t feel like talking now.  “I’m just tired,” Kouyou admitted in a low murmur, something suitable and straight to the point without detail as he nursed the empty shot glass in his hands with a pinched frown. He looked to Takanori, then, and met his gaze with an inquisitive nudge of his leg against his. “How are you holding up?”

Takanori looked down at his own glass and absently traced his pointer finger around the rim before sighing and shrugging a shoulder. He reached over to refill it and gently clink the glass against Kouyou’s empty one before swallowing it down in one, seamless motion. A wince was all there was left scrunching his nose. “Join the club.” Not an answer. Kouyou shook his head. Of course, he wouldn’t give him an answer.

“You really do look nice, though,” The shorter of the pair murmured after turning to curl a leg under him and rest his arm across the backrest of the of the sofa, getting an eyeful. “Penguin suit and all.”

“Go fuck yourself,” Kouyou had the nerve to laugh with a genuine ounce of mirth, no matter how brief it was or how sudden it snuck up on him. He busied himself with loosening his tie and unraveling it rather than refilling his glass the way he wanted. Hadn’t he said earlier that he wasn’t giving him any compliments? In his terms alone, he looked like shit and Kouyou was willing to take it, because, well, he certainly felt like it. He wasn’t about to argue that in the least bit.

“Fuck me yourself, you coward.”

But he would argue with _that_. He would argue with that any given day of the week if it hadn’t sucker punched him in the gut by surprise. It was said so lowly, Kouyou could have easily missed it if he hadn’t been sitting so close, but he _did_ hear it. Looked into Takanori’s eyes the moment he parted his lips to say it, and what laughter remained was immediately robbed from him. There was no handbook to look to in search of how to handle something that shouldn’t have plummeted straight to the lining of his stomach in an automatic, unexpected flush of heat. His lips parted soundlessly, the brain-to-mouth motor function had _stopped working_ and Kouyou was left with nothing but the droop of his eyes and a dry well for a mouth.

The invitation, no matter if it were meant for shits and giggles or not, shouldn’t have made his mouth sting, his cock twitch. The curl of w _ant_ had no business flaring from a place so tightly wounded up within him, untouched and shoved aside when it had only served as a place for self-loathing and disgust before after the last time he had been so intimate with Linda. It had been a long time since he actually wanted to sleep with somebody. Even now, he wasn’t sure if sex was what was on his mind when he came here, but it was there now, and he couldn’t get it out of his head.

“Taka…” This was a bad idea, he thought to himself as he reached out to cup the crook of Takanori’s neck the moment the boy shifted closer to reach out and place aside their empty glasses and caress his cheek with a slow brush of his thumb, watched him lean into his touch as they held each other’s gaze and welcome the press of a soft kiss deposited into his palm, but now that he was having it he couldn't stop. He didn't know what had come over him, other than that he wanted to. And he so rarely got to do anything he wanted. Something that _he_ genuinely wanted, just for himself and no one else’s agenda; no one else’s role to fill. If Takanori pulled away from him or told him off he would have stopped in a heartbeat, but he didn’t. Instead, Takanori reached to cup the back of his neck and mimicked the gesture of caressing Kouyou’s cheek with his thumb, tipping his head forward.

“Do it,” Takanori edged on in a whisper when he brushed his lips against Kouyou’s, his tone husked in mirrored want. “ _Do_ it, you pu–“

If Takanori thought that goading him by calling him out of his name and see if he’d press Kouyou’s bluff, then got what he was looking for. Kouyou didn’t need much ammunition when he had more than enough in his arsenal. Sometimes, when he wasn’t doing things people wanted him to do, he did things out of spite. This? This was one of those times.

He surged forward and captured Takanori’s lips in a deep kiss to smother his taunt and steal his breath away along with it. Without hesitation, he gave a squeeze of warning to the back of Takanori’s neck and ate up his mouth like it was a novelty. Now that he had a taste of what it was like to kiss another without a disconnect, how could he stop himself from wanting this? How could he had possibly thought that going back to his day to day normal where everything felt so lacking was feasible?

It was a wonder that would have to be answered another day, another time when his hands weren’t full of Takanori slipping out of his grip when he stood up long enough to hoist the smaller teen in his hold that practically jumped into his arms and blindly carry him, legs wrapped haphazardly around his waist and arms tight around his neck; half-eaten lasagna and shitty movies forgotten. He looped his arms firmer under Takanori’s arse, and the new angle only served to grind their groins together when Kouyou paused to collect himself and pin him up against the wall of the staircase midway up, rattling nearby framed photos and nearly dislodging one from its evenly lined placement. It was like a blow to his gut how it winded him, the newly reacquainted sensation going straight to his head so fast it threatened to make lightheaded.

“Fuck, Shima,” Takanori gasped into his mouth. He must have felt it, too. There was no other reason for how his eyelids drooped simultaneously with the fall of his mouth around something he intended to say that Kouyou wasn’t trying to hear. He leaned in, using what leverage he had at his expense to kiss him again.

“Yeah,” Kouyou nodded his head, distracted. “Yeah, I know.” He didn’t know. But the heavily charged buzz in the air between them did, and in his head that was good enough for the time being.

When their kisses began to deepen, Kouyou pulled Takanori from the wall and walked them up the remainder of stairs, pausing at the top to try and recall where Takanori’s bedroom was. It took some maneuvering and guidance on Takanori’s end, but once they stumbled their way in Kouyou shut the door with his foot. He paused long enough for Takanori to flip the light switch on before making his way to his bed where he fell back against the array of fluffy pillows with a small 'oof' from the furniture on his back, tugging Takanori against him. He didn’t have to. Takanori was already trying to slot himself onto his lap and straddle his hips with single-minded determination. His legs parted over Kouyou’s lap and the sound of their breath filled them with an urgency that made Kouyou flush hot all over.

This wasn’t the first time they've kissed. Kouyou knew that. But it was the first time they've kissed like _this_ with something more in their veins, Takanori’s hands in his hair in the privacy of the youth’s room where Kouyou could just let himself go and melt into the flare of heat on his skin in every place Takanori’s touch reached him. Feel the rush of blood in places that Takanori wasn’t even _touching_...

He was going to lose his mind.

“Taka,” Kouyou whispered quickly over the youth’s mouth when they took half a second to separate. Takanori used the new footing benevolently given to him to spread his knees farther apart, press his lap flush against Kouyou’s and grind his hips down.

“Yeah?” Takanori responded in a heavy breath before pressing their mouths together again, sliding his tongue into the heat of Kouyou’s mouth and selfishly swallowing a quick groaned sound in between the immediate end of a kiss and the beginning of another. It was so immensely hot, Kouyou couldn’t stand it. Takanori was like fire that couldn’t be quelled until there was nothing left to consume, burning down the foundation of Kouyou’s control until he was wholeheartedly at the mercy of it, and Kouyou liked it. God, he liked it so much. Too much to get carried away ahead of himself.

“Kiss me,” He whispered between kisses. Their breath came loud and filled their ears with the sound of exertion. A touch of a grin graced Takanori’s lips against Kouyou’s mouth for a second, but it was gone as soon as it appeared.

“I _am_ kissing you.”

“I know, I know. It’s–“ Kouyou gripped Takanori by the hips when words failed him – hips so much narrower than those he’s handled before, but the kind he’s feened for – and encouraged him forward, using his strength to pull and rut their laps together with an upward roll of his hips to meet Takanori halfway, setting him into a rhythm. It was clumsy at first, but when they found one, there was no way Kouyou was going to lose it.

“T’s good,” Takanori finished for him, his whisper tight and breathy with awe as he pushed off Kouyou’s suit blazer, encouraging him to shrug it off and do away with it, and it was as if he could read Kouyou’s mind in that moment. It only served to make Kouyou’s eyes darken and smolder as he pulled away to look up the boy above him, shucking off the garment and tossing it aside carelessly. Takanori’s was in no better condition, but the pause given to them gave way for something to make him… laugh. His laughter was contagious, and Kouyou couldn’t escape his own joining in.

What they were laughing at, he couldn’t tell you even if he tried. Maybe it was the predicament they were in. Or maybe they felt that they needed this equally; the heat, the excitement, the reciprocation – the sheer drive for physical, no strings attached release bubbling like soda pop in their chests to take the edge off from reality; the pause that they needed. For once in their lives, they were in alignment, exactly on the right page. Takanori was hard and wanting, turned on just as much as he was, and the realization was dizzying. He caught Takanori’s chin carefully in his hold with a hand after their laughter subdued into a warm, still-charged lull and fixated his eyes on the way his thumb slid over the youth’s lips from top to bottom. He lingered to feel his lip ring under his touch before slowly pressing it into his mouth, right onto the warmth of Takanori’s tongue that welcomed him like a dream.

“Jesus, look at you,” he marveled. Takanori was a sight to behold with his hooded eyes and mused locks, letting himself taste Kouyou’s thumb in his mouth and indulge the act of swirling his tongue around the digit with a leisure reserved for all the time in the world. Kouyou’s eyes hazed. He leaned up to let his tongue slowly slip back between Takanori’s lips after removing his thumb out of the way, find his tongue again with his and close his eyes at the quiet mewl Takanori’s mouth gave to him.

Gently, he sucked his tongue into his mouth. So warm and slick, a taste one he couldn’t get enough of no matter how long it would take to sate him. It was like Takanori couldn’t help himself from grinding down into his lap harder when he picked back up where they left off, forced to slow down but to have more weight behind each one with Kouyou’s hand settled heavily at his hip whilst the other slipped  beneath his shirt, running with a heavy caress over his hip and back, down his spin and over the swell of his ass until he had a good grip on a cheek and s _queezed_.

Kouyou could feel his body reacting in ways he couldn’t control. He was so hard and aching he couldn’t handle it, and the way Takanori whined into his mouth threatened to be his ruin. He let Takanori’s tongue slide back into its place and trade places for the teen’s bottom lip, running his tongue over its smooth surface before gently sucking it into his mouth and tug on it with his teeth. Takanori’s face was red and wanting, pupils blown and open with arousal, Kouyou imagined that his own face couldn’t have looked much different.

“Fuck, I’m…” Takanori groaned the moment he was free to, fingers wounding into Kouyou’s hair when Kouyou raised as best as he could to slot his mouth at his neck and leave kisses there, too. Kisses that weren’t too deep to leave bruises until he reached the other boy’s collarbone. Amidst admiring the way Takanori’s breath hitch in his throat, something within Kouyou snapped and set him ablaze; a shiver tracing the base of his spine. He couldn’t resist.

“Cum?” Kouyou asked just a little way beneath a spot of Takanori’s ear, mouthing his way over his jawline. “Are you gonna cum, Taka?” He wanted to see it. He needed to. It was the only reason why he tipped his head back so he could look up and meet Takanori’s gaze, watch him try to breathe through the rush of arousal that seared through him and the inquire that made his mouth fall around a deep moan as his countenance crumbled, Kouyou didn’t know how it hadn’t sent him rushing straight over the edge.

“Don’t stop… Let me see it,” Kouyou breathed, his breath sharp, tight in his chest and eyelids determined to stay open to hold Takanori’s gaze that fluttered between trying to stove off the inevitable and falling head-first into teetering over the precipice of nirvana. “Let me see your face as you cum.”  His hands pulling on Takanori’s hips was heavy, hopelessly needy, goading him into every grind. “Want to see you… fall apart, just like this.” He whispered, talking from a headspace buried underneath too many layers of clothes and delicious friction that whisked him higher and higher as he watched Takanori’s face break with a shaky moan the closer he neared the edge. “Yeah, that’s it… Fuck, just like that.”

Their eyes locked onto each other. The closer Takanori got, the more Kouyou’s eyes hazed.

“Oh… _oh_!” Takanori tensed and moaned helplessly when he hit his peak and straight through the pulsations that made his body tremble, hitched higher as Kouyou pulled him against him faster, harder, eyes closing and muscles clenching with a sound of pleasure that broke over him in a wild rush of sheer perfection. There was nowhere left to conceal his own face as he came with Takanori’s fingers tangled in his hair and holding his head back from moving as the smaller teen continued rutting into his lap, determined to rut straight through his orgasm and finish pushing Kouyou to his own that wasn’t too far behind him. His orgasm took his breath away, made him forget how to breathe until he was left to throatily groan up at the ceiling, gripping Takaori’s hips tight.

They panted and held on to each other before Takanori fell limp in Kouyou’s. Kouyou couldn’t complain about how sore his scalp felt from the heat-of-the-moment-rough treatment it was given, too blissed out to care about it or the way Takanori’s mouth sought for his own for a languidly lazy kiss with a hand at his jawline directing the turn of his head and the attention of his eyes he was more than willing to give him.

“Fuck…” Kouyou whispered unto his lips, an air of sheer astonishment warming his tone as he slowly, gently, combed his fingers through Takanori’s hair with an unreadable furrow of his brow.

“Yeah…” Takanori bit his lower lip, kiss-swollen and crushed velvet. “Fuck.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ♪Oh, the webs we weave~♪


End file.
